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ABRIDGMENT 


OF 


MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY, 


INCLUDING  TlIK  THREE  DEPARTMENTS 


jk MELLECT,   SENSIBILITIES,   AND    WILL, 


DESIGNED  AS  A  TEXT-BOOK 


ACADEMIES  AND  HIGH  SCHOOLS. 


BY  THOMAS  C.  UPHAM, 

mOFESSOr.  of   mental   and   MOKAL  PUILOSOPaV   in    BOWDOIU  COliEOU- 


N  E  W    YORK: 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 

1880. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  by  Thomas  C.  Upham,  in 
the  U.  S.  District  Court,  State  of  Maine,  July  13th,  1861. 


W     :'/      ^ 

PREFACE 


The  Philosophy  of  the  Mind  has  grown  up,  hke  other 
sciences,   from  small   beginnings.     Many   proposilions, 
eoraing  loo,  in  many  instances,  from  able  writei-s,  have 
been  thrown  aside  ;  truth  has  been  sifted  out  from  the 
mass  of  error,  until  at  last  a  great  number  of  important 
principles  is  ascertained.     But  while   it   is  exceedingly 
necessary  that  our   youth   should   be  made  acquainted 
with  these  principles,  it  is  impossible  that  they  should  go 
through  with  all  the  complicated  discussions  which  have 
been  held  in  respect  to  them.     Many  of  the  books  in 
which  these  discussions  are  contained  have  become  ex 
ceedingly  rare  ;  and,  if  they  were  not  so,  no  small  num- 
ber of  students,  who  are  now  in  the  course  of  as  thorough 
an  education  as  our  country  affords,  would  not  be  able  to 
purchase  them.     And  besides,  by  placing  before  the  stu- 
V    dent  a  mass  of  crude  and  conflicting  statements,  his  mind 
*»     becomes  perplexed.     To  be  able  to  resolve  such  a  mass 
^    into  its  elements,  and  to  separate  truth  from  error,  implies 
^    an  acquaintance  with  the  laws  of  the  intellect,  and  a  de- 
!/^     gree  of  mental  discipline,  which  he  is  not  yet  supposed  to 
^  have  acquired ;  and  hence,  instead  of  obtaining  much  im- 
■'HL  por^-ant  knowledge,  he  becomes  distrustful  of  everything 
,N^     Now  these  evils,  saying  nothing  of»the  loss  of  time  at 
tendant  on  such  a  course,  are  to  be  remedied  in  the  same 
way  as  in  other  sciences.     In  other  departmer'ts  of  learn- 
ing, ingenious  men  discuss  points  of  difficulty  ;  conflicting 
arguments  are  accumulated,  until  the  preponderance  on 
one  side  is  such  that  the  question  in  debate  is  consideied 


IV  PREFACE. 

settled.  Others  employ  themselves  m  collectmg  facts,  m 
classifying  them,  and  in  deducing  general  principles ;  and 
when  all  this  is  done,  the  important  truths  of  the  science, 
collected  from  such  a  variety  of  sources,  and  suitably  ar- 
ranged and  expressed,  are  laid  before  the  student,  in  or- 
der that  he  may  become  acquainted  with  them.  And  ihi? 
is  what  is  attempted,  to  some  extent,  to  be  done  in  the 
present  work,  which  is  an  abridgment  of  a  larger  work 
on  the  same  subject.  In  the  larger  work,  the  principles  of 
Eclecticism  and  Induction,  w^hich  have  just  been  referred 
to,  are  applied  on  a  more  extensive  scale  than  in  the 
present.  I  have  been  obliged  necessarily  to  exclude 
from  the  abridgment  niany  interesting  and  striking  illus- 
trations and  facts,  and  some  general  philosophical  views, 
which  would  have  had  a  place  if  our  hmits  had  permit- 
ted. I  indulge  the  hope,  nevertheless,  as  the  abridgment 
has  been  made  with  no  small  degree  of  care,  that  it  will 
answer  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  particularly  designed  ; 
nz.,  the  assistance  of  those  youth  who  need  some  knowl- 
edge of  Mental  Philosophy,  but  are  not  in  a  situation  to 
prosecute  the  subject  to  any  great  extent. 

THOMAS  C.  UPHAM. 

Bowdoin  College,  July,  1861. 


C  O  N   I    E  N   r  s 


DIVISION    I. 

THE    INTELLECT    OR    UNDERSTANDING. 
INTKLLKCTIVE    OR    INTELLECTUAL   STATES    OF    THE    HIND 

PART    I. 

..NTELLECTUAL    STATES    OF    EXTERNAL    ORIGIN. 
CHAPTER  I. 

ORIGIN    OF    KNOWLEDGE    IN   GENERAL. 

\.  rh    mind  susceptible  of  a  threefold  division          .        .  17 

2  The  Intellect  susceptible  of  a  subordinate  division       .        .  3b. 

3  Of  the  connesion  of  the  mind  with  the  material  world         .  ifl 

4  Our  first  knowledge  in  general  of  a  material  or  external  orijHi  .  19 
b.  Shown  further  from  what  we  notice  in  children  ...  20 
G.  Further  proof  of  the  beginnings  of  knowledge  from  external  cause*  21 

/.  The  same  subject  further  illustrated 22 

fl.  Illustration  from  the  case  of  James  Mitchell         ...  23 

CHAPTER  II. 

SENSATION    AND    PERCEPTION. 

9.  Sensation  a  simple  mental  state  originating  in  the  senses     .        .  Zt 

10.  All  sensation  is  properly  and  truly  in  the  mind      ...  25 

11.  Sensations  are  not  images  or  resemblances  of  objects  .         .        .  ib. 

12.  The  connexion  between  the  mental  and  physical  change  not  ca- 

pable of  explanation    ........  24 

13.  Of  the  meaning  and  nature  of  perception 27 

14.  Perception  makes  us  acquainted  with  a  material  world        .        .  27 

15.  Of  the  primary  and  secondary  qualities  of  matter          .        .  28 
16    Of  the  secondary  qualities  of  matter 29 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  SENSES  OF  SMELL  AND  TASTE. 

17.  Nature  and  importance  of  the  senses  as  a  source  of  knowjed^  30 

19.  Connexion  of  the  brain  with  sensation  and  perception  31 
i9.  Order  in  which  the  senses  are  to  be  considered     .        .                 .  Xi 

20.  Of  the  sense  and  sensations  of  smell     ....                 .  jb. 

21.  Of  perceptions  of  smell  in  distinction  from  sensations  .        .        .  33 
iffl    Of  the  sense  and  the  sensations  of  taste 34 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    SENSE    OF    HEARING. 

23  Organ  of  the  sense  of  hearing        ....  35 

24  Varieties  of  the  sensation  of  sound 30 

tS    Manner  in  which  we  learn  the  place  of  sounds     .  ,  3' 

A  9. 


CONTENTS- 


CHAPTER   V, 


THE    SENSE    OF    TOUCH. 


ftW 

26.  Of  the  sense  of  tc  uch  in  general  and  its  sensations       .  3S 

27.  Idea  of  externality  suggested  in  connexion  with  the  .ouah  .    ib. 
iS.  Origin  of  the  notion  of  extension,  and  of  form  or  .ngiue        .  46 

29.  On  the  sensations  of  heat  and  cold 41 

30    Of  the  sensations  of  hardness  and  softness     ....  IS 

.11,  Of  certain  indefinite  feelings  sometimes  ascribed  to  the  touch  .     li 

12.  Relation  between  the  sensation  and  what  is  outwardly  sigrified  .    i» 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    SENSE    OF    SIGHT. 


33.  Of  the  organ  of  sight,  and  the  uses  or  benefits  of  that  senno  40 

S4.  Statement  of  the  mode  or  process  in  visual  perception  .     47 

35.  Of  the  original  and  acquired  perceptions  of  sight           .  .     48 

36.  The  idea  of  extension  not  originally  from  sight     .        .  .49 

37.  Of  the  knowledge  of  thefigure  of  bodies  by  the  sight  ,     50 

38.  Illustration  of  the  subject  from  the  blind        .         .  .51 

39.  Measurements  of  magnitude  by  the  eye         .  .    62 

40.  Of  objects  seen  in  a  mist       ....                 .  .53 

41.  Of  the  sun  and  moon  when  seen  in  the  horizon    .        .        .  .     ib 

42.  Of  the  estimation  of  distances  by  sight 54 

43.  Signs  by  means  of  which  we  estimate  distance  by  sight       .  .     55 

44.  Estimation  of  distance  when  unaided  by  intermediate  objecis  ,    56 

45.  Of  obietiS  seen  on  the  ocean,  &c.          .                 ...  57 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HABITS    OF    SENSATION    AND    PERCEPTION. 

46.  General  view  of  the  law  of  habit  and  of  its  applications        .        .     5^' 

47.  The  law  of  habit  applicable  to  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body        .     ib 

48.  Of  habit  in  relation  to  the  smell 59 

49  Of  habit  in  relation  to  the  taste 60 

50  Of  habit  in  relation  to  the  hearing .62 

51.  Application  of  habit  to  the  touch    . 64 

52.  Other  striking  instances  of  habits  of  touch 65 

53    Habits  considered  in  relation  to  the  sight      ....  66 

54.  Sensations  may  possess  a  relative,  as  well  as  positive  incretw  o! 

power 68 

55.  Of  habits  as  modified  by  particular  callings  and  arts  .        .69 

56.  The  law  of  habit  considered  in  reference  to  the  perception  of  the 

outlmes  and  forms  of  objects 70 

57    Notice  of  some  facts  which  favour  the  above  doctrine  .        .     71 

68    Additional  illustiations  of  Mr.  Stewart's  doctrine  .        .        .79 


CHAPTER   VIII, 


CONCEPTIONS. 

59  Meaning  and  characteristics  of  conceptions  .         ■        .        ,  ^    IS 

60  Of  conceptions  of  objects  of  sight 74 

61.  Of  the  influence  of  habit  on  our  conceptions         .        .        .  .76 

62.  Influence  of  habit  on  conceptions  of  sight      .        .        ,        .  ,     77 

63  Of  the  subserviency  of  our  conceptions  to  description  .        .  ib. 

64  Of  conceptions  attended  with  a  momentary  belief         .  78 

65.  Conceptions  which  are  joined  with  perceptions    ...  81 

66.  Conceptions  as  conrected  with  fictitious  leprc'^entations      .  S8 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

SIMPLICITY    AND    COMPLESNESS   OF    MENTAL    STATES. 

67.  Oii gin  of  the  distinction  of  simple  and  complex    .  _.   . 

68.  Nature  and  characteristics  of  simple  mental  states 

69.  Simple  mental  states  not  susceptible  of  definition 

70.  Simple  mental  states  representative  of  a  reality    . 

71.  Origin  of  complex  notions,  and  their  relation  to  simple 

72  Supposed  complexne«s  without  the  antecedence  of  simple  feelir  ga 

73  The  precise  sense  in  which  complexness  is  to  be  understood 

74  Illustrations  of  analysis  as  apphed  to  the  mind      . 

75  Complex  notions  of  external  origin 

'/fi  Of  objects  contemplated  as  wholes  .... 

CHAPTER  X. 

ABSTRACTION. 

'n.  Abstraction  implied  in  the  analysis  of  complex  ideas    . 

78.  Instances  of  particular  abstract  ideas    ..... 

79.  Mental  process  in  separating  and  abstracting  them 

80.  General  abstract  notions  the  same  with  genera  and  species 

81.  Process  in  classification,  or  the  forming  of  genera  and  species 
S2.  Early  classifications  sometimes  incorrect       .... 

83.  Illustrations  of  our  earliest  classifications     .... 

84.  Of  the  nature  of  general  abstract  ideas 

85.  The  power  of  general  abstraction  in  connexion  witn  numbers,  &  ":. 

86.  Of  genera]  abstract  truths  or  principles  .... 
S7.  Of  the  speculations  of  philosophers  and  others      . 

CHAPTER  XI. 

OF    ATTENTION. 

88.  Of  the  general  nature  of  attention 

89.  Of  different  degrees  of  attention     . 

90.  Dependence  of  memory  on  attention     . 

91.  Of  exercising  attention  in  reading 
9?.  Alleged  inability  to  command  the  attention 

CHAPTER  XII. 

DREAMING. 

»3.  Definition  of  dreams  and  the  prevalence  of  them 

94.  Connexion  of  dreams  with  our  waking  thoughts 

95.  Dreams  are  often  caused  by  our  sensations  . 

96.  Explanation  of  the  incohereiicy  of  dreams.     (Ist  cause) 

97.  Second  cause  of  the  incoherency  of  dreams 
?8.  Apparent  reality  of  dreams.     (1st  cause) 
S9    Apparent  reality  of  dreams.     (2d  cause) 

100  Of  our  est'lmate  of  time  in  dreaming      . 

1 01  Explanaticn  of  the  preceding  stat<=ment3 


sa 

ib. 

84 
35 
96 
87 
98 
89 
90 
91 


9*4^ 

•«» 

94 
95 
96 
97 
ib. 
93 
99 
lb. 
10ft 


101 
102 
103 
\04 
105 


107 
ib. 
108 
110 
ib 
111 
112 
113 
114 


PART    II. 

INTELLECTUj^  L    STATES    OF    INTERNAL    ORIGIN. 
CHAPTER  I. 

INTERNAL    ORIGIN    OF    KNOWLEDGE. 

tua    The  soul  has  fountains  of  knowledge  within  •    .     :      ,, 

.03    Declaration  of  Locke,  that  the  soul  has  kno  v\<lge  in  itself 


119 

129 


fin  CONTENTS. 

SoCtiOB 

104    TLe  beginning  of  ki.  jwle>lge  IS  m  the  senseF 

i'J5    There  may  also  be  internal  accessions  to  knowledge   . 

106.  Instances  of  notions  which  have  an  mtemal  origin 

107.  Other  instances  of  ideas  which  h.ave  an  internal  origin 


S21 
122 
ib 


CHAPTER  II. 


SUGGESTION. 


108  Impoit  of  suggestion,  and  its  application  in  Keid  and  Stewart 

109  Ideas  of  existence,  mind,  self-existence,  and  personal  identity 

110  Of  the  nature  of  unity,  and  the  origin  of  that  notion 
111.  Nature  of  succession,  and  origin  of  the  idea  of  success 
)i2    Origm  of  the  notion  of  duration 
U3,  Illustrations  of  the  nature  of  duration    . 
114.  Of  tmie  ancf  its  measurements,  and  of  eternity 
I'S.  The  idea  of  space  not  of  external  origin 

116.  The  idea  of  space  has  its  origin  in  suggestion 

117.  Of  the  origin  of  the  idea  of  power  . 

118.  Occasions  of  the  origin  of  the  idea  of  power  . 

119  Of  the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong     . 

120  Origin  of  the  ideas  of  moral  merit  and  demerit 

121.  Of  other  elements  of  knowledge  developed  in  suggestion 

122.  Suggestion  a  source  of  principles  as  well  as  of  ideas    . 


12j 

124 

126 

127 

123 

ib. 

129 

.  130 

.  131 

132 

.    ib. 

.  133 

.  131 

.  135 


CHAPTER  III. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

123.  Consciousness  the  2d  source  of  internal  knowledge;  its  nat.ire  13« 

124.  Further  remarks  on  the  proper  objects  of  consciousness       .         .  137 

125.  Consciousnes  a  ground  or  law  of  belief 138 

'26    Instances  of  knowledge  developed  in  consciousness     .        .         .  \b 


CHAPTER  IV. 

RELATIVE    SUGGESTION    OR    JUDGMENT. 

ri27.  Of  the  susceptibility  of  perceiving  or  feeling  relations  . 
128    Occasions  on  which  feelings  of  relation  may  arise 

129.  Of  the  use  of  correlative  terms 

130.  Of  relations  of  identity  and  diversity      .... 

131.  (II.)  Relations  of  degree,  and  names  expressive  of  them 

132.  (ill.)  Of  relations  of  proportion 

133    (iv.)  Of  relations  of  place  or  position    .... 

S34    (v.)  Of  relations  of  time 

135.  fvi.)  Of  ideas  of  possession 

S3€.  (vii.)  Of  relations  of  cause  and  effect  .... 

137  Of  complex  terms  involving  the  relation  of  cause  and  eflfec 

138  Coauiexion  of  relative  suggestion  with  reasoning 

CHAPTER  V. 

ASSOCIATION.      (l.)    PRIMARY    LAWS. 

139  Rcdjons  for  considering  this  subject  here 
!  J(    Meaning  of  association  and  illustrations 
.41    Of  the  general  laws  of  association 

i42  Resemblance  the  first  general  law  of  association 

143  Of  resemblance  in  the  effects  produced 

144  Contrast  the  second  general  or  primary  law  , 

145  Contiguity  the  third  general  or  primary  law 
'4ft  Cause  and  clfecl  the  fourth  rriinarv  law 


140 
141 
142 
ib. 
143 
144 
145 
146 
147 
148 
\'W 


15] 
ib 
152 
153 
154 
15t 
157 
15» 


16(1 
161 
165 
163 
I&1 


CONTENTS 
CHAPTER  VI. 

ASSOCIATION.    (ll.)   SECONDARY    LAWS 
•utka  ••«• 

14T  Secondary  laws,  and  their  connexion  with  the  primary         ,  199 

i48.  Of  the  influeiice  oi  lapse  of  time    ...  ""' 

149.  Secondary  law  of  repetition  or  habit 

150.  C)f  the  secondary  law  of  coexistent  emotion 

151.  Oiiguwi  difference  m  the  mental  constitution 
152  The  foregoing  as  applicable  to  the  sensibilities 

CHAPTER  VII. 

MEMORY. 

153.  Remarks  on  the  general  nature  of  memory    .        .'     .        .  IWJ 

154.  Of  memory  as  a  ground  or  law  of  belief        .....  167 

155.  Of  differences  in  the  strength  of  memory 168 

156.  Of  circumstantial  memory,  or  that  species  of  memory  which  is 

based  on  the  relations  of  contiguity  in  time  and  place        .        .  169 

157.  Illustrations  of  specific  or  circumstantial  memory         .        .        .  170 

158.  Of  philosophic  memory,  or  that  species  of  memory  whic'i  is  based 

on  other  relations  than  those  of  contiguity  .        .        .        .Hi 

159.  Illustrations  of  philosophic  memory n2 

160.  Of  that  species  of  memory  called  intentional  recollection     .        .  173 

161.  Nature  of  intentional  recollection 174 

162.  Instance  illustrative  of  the  preceding  statements  .        .        .        .  ib. 

163.  Marks  of  a  good  memory 175 

164.  Directions  or  rules  for  the  improvement  of  the  memory         .        .  177 

166.  Further  directions  for  the  improvement  of  the  memory         .        .  179 
'66.  Of  observance  of  the  truth  in  connexion  with  memory         .        .  Idf 

CHAPTER  Vin. 

DURATION   OF    MEMORY. 

167.  Restoration  of  thoughts  and  feelings  supposed  to  be  forgotten      .    3i 

168.  Mental  action  quickened  by  influence  on  the  physicxi  system         183 

169.  Other  instances  of  quickened  mental  action,  and  of  i  restoration 

of  thoughts •        .  184 

170    Effect  on  the  memory  of  a  severe  attack  of  fever  .        .        .        .    ib. 

171.  Approval  and  illustrations  of  these  views  from  Colenuge  .  185 

172.  Application  of  the  principles  of  this  chapter  to  education      .        .  187 

173.  Connexion  of  this  doctrine  with  the  final  judgment  and  a  future 

Ufe 1*W 

CHAPTER  IX. 

REASONING. 

14    Reasoning  a  source  of  ideas  and  kiiov.'ledge  .        .        .  190 

t75.   Definition  of  reasoning,  and  of  propositions 191 

I76i   Process  of  the  mind  in  all  cases  of  reasoning         .        -  192 

177.  Illustration  of  the  preceding  statement  ....  193 

.78    Grounds  of  the  selection  of  propositions        .        .        .  194 

179  Reasoning  implies  the  existence  of  antecedent  cr  a?.sumed  prrpcv 

silions 195 

180  Further  considerations  on  this  subject 196 

181  Of  differences  in  the  power  of  reasoning       .  .        ,        ,  197 

182.  Of  habits  of  reasoning .        •  198 

1R3    Of  reasoning  in  connexion  with  langi  age  or  exp  ession  .  199 

IfU   Illuistration  of  the  foiegoing  sectior       ....  20C 


COMTENTS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DEMONSTRATIVE    REASONING 

185    Of  the  subjects  of  demonstrative  reasoning   ...  801 

I8C.  Uss  of  dettniiions  and  axioms  m  demonst'ative  reuw  ning  208 

187.  The  opposites  of  demonstrative  reasonings  absurd        .  203 

188    Demonstra'.ipos  do  not  adnut  of  different" degrees  of  beliel  204 

''89    01  the  use  of  iiagrams  m  demonstrations      .        .        .  205 

CHAPTER  XI. 

MORAL    REASONINO. 

iflC   Of  the  subjects  and  importance  of  rnorat  reasouing      .        ,  20C 

191    Of  the  nature  of  moral  certainty   .....  SOI 

!92    Of  reasoning  from  analogy 208 

i93.  Of  reasoning  by  induction 209 

•  94.  Of  combined  or  accumulated  arguments       ....  210 

CHAPTER  XII. 

PRACTICAL   DIRECTIONS    IN    REA80NIN6. 

195.  Rules  relating  to  the  practice  of  reasoning    ....  SI. 

i96.  Of  being  influenced  in  reasoning  by  a  love  of  the  truth         .  ib 

i97.  Care  to  be  used  in  correctly  stating  the  subject  of  discussion  .  212 

198.  Consider  the  kind  of  evidence  applicable  to  the  subject         .  .  213 

199.  Reject  the  aid  of  false  arguments  or  sophisms       .        .        .  .    il 

200.  Fallacia  equivocationis,  or  the  use  of  equivocal  terms  and  phraser-  215 

201.  Of  the  sophism  of  estimating  actions  and  character  from  the  cr  - 

cumstances  of  success  merely 216 

202.  Of  adherence  to  our  opinions 21'J 

203.  Effects  on  the  mind  of  debating  for  victory  instead  of  fruth  .  218 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

IMAGINATION. 

204.  Imagination  an  intellectual  rather  than  a  sensitive  process  .  .  219 

205.  The  imagination  closely  related  to  the  reasoning  power       .  220 

206.  Definition  of  the  power  of  imagination          ....  221 

207.  Process  of  the  mind  in  the  creations  of  the  imagination        .  •  222 

208.  Further  remarks  on  the  same  subject    ....  .  223 

;}09.  Illustration  from  the  writings  of  Dr.  Reid ib. 

2!0.  Grounds  of  the  preference  of  one  conception  to  another        .  224 

211.  illustration  of  the  subject  from  Milton 22 

2i2.  The  creations  of  imagination  not  entirely  voluntary     .  .    ib. 

213.  Illustration  of  the  statements  of  the  preceding  section  .         .  227 

21 4,  On  the  utility  of  the  faculty  of  the  imagination     ....  228 
il5.  Importsiice  of  the  imagination  in  connexion  with  reasoning  .  229 

CHAPTKR  XIV. 

DISORDERED    INTELLECTUAL    ACTION, 
(l.)    EXCITED    CONCEPTIONS   OR    APPARITIONS 

216    Disordered  intellectual  action  as  connected  with  the  body   ,  .   831 

217.   Of  excited  conceptions  and  of  apparitions  in  general    .        .  .  235! 

2!S.  Of  the  less  permanent  excited  conceptions  of  sight      .        .  .    ib. 

219    Of  the  less  permament  excited  conceptions  of  sound    .        .  .  23< 
880    ^'irst  cause  of  permanently  vivid  conceptions  or  apparitiona  — 

Morbid  sensibility  of  the  rs^i;aa  of  the  eye                  .        .  .  23J 


C0-\  TENTS.  XI 

fccuoi  t^ 
821.  Second  cauje  of  permanently  excited  coucey  ions  or  ap^arii^  na. 

Neglect  of  periodical  blood-letting      ....  .  237 

222.  Methods  of  relief  adopted  ni  this  case 239 

223.  Third  cause  of  excited  conceptions.     Attacks  of  fever  .  240 

224.  Fourth  cause  of  apparitions  and  other  excited  conceptions.     In 

(iainiuation  of  the  brain 241 

225.  Fjc'.s  having  relation  to  the  fourth  cause  of  excited  concepti  n%     243 
%6.  Fifth  cause  of  apparitions.     Hysteria i43 

CHAPTER  XV. 

DISOEDERED    INTELLECTUAL    ACTION. 

jl.)    INSANITY. 

IE!    Meaning  of  the  term  insanity 


244 

245 
246 
247 
248 
249 


Of  disordered  or  alienated  sensations    . 
229    Of  disordered  or  alienated  external  perception 

230.  Disordered  state  or  insanity  of  original  suggestion 

231.  Unsoundness  or  insanity  of  consciousness 

232.  Insanity  cf  the  judgment  or  relative  suggestion     . 
2:J3.  Disordered  or  alienated  association.     Lightheadedness        .  250 

234.  Illustrations  of  this  mental  disorder 25' 

235.  Of  partial  insanity  or  alienation  of  the  memory     . 

236.  Of  the  power  of  reasoning  in  the  partially  insane  .        .         .  2^ 

237.  Instance  of  the  above  form  of  insanity  of  reasoning  25-^ 

238.  Partial  mental  alienation  by  means  of  the  imagination  .  253 

239.  Insanity  or  alienation  of  the  power  of  belief  .  25fl 

DIVISION    II. 

THE    SENSIBILITIES. 
SENTIENT   OR    SENSITIVE   STATES  OF    THE   MIND.— SENTIMENTS 

INTRODUCTION. 

CLASSIFICATION    OF   THE   SENSIBILITIES. 

240.  Reference  to  the  general  division  of  the  whole  mind    .        .        .261 

241.  The  action  of  the  sensibilities  implies  that  of  the  intellect    .        .    ib, 

242.  Division  of  the  sensibilities  into  natural  or  patL^matic,  and  moral  262 

243.  The  moral  and  natural  sensibilities  have  difteren*  objects     .        .  263 

244.  The  moral  sensibilities  higher  in  rank  than  the  Datural        ,         .  264 

245.  The  moral  sensibilities  wanting  in  brutes      .         .  .         .    ib. 

246  Classitication  of  the  natural  sensibilities        .  .         .  265 

247  (.  lassification  of  the  moral  sensibilities  266 

PART    I. 

NATURAL    OR    PATHEMATIC    SEN.SIBILITIES. 

NATURAL   OR    PaTHEMATID    SBN7JMBNT8. 

CLASS     I. 

EMOTIONS   OR    EMOTIVE    STATES    OF    THK    MIND 

CHAPTER  1. 

NATURE    OF   THE    EMOTIONS. 

»48  We  have  a  Anowledge  of  emotions  by  conscious.uess  .  .  .  269 
249   The  place  of  emotions,  considered  in  reference  to  other  mciitAl 

acts .        .        .        .t?0 

SSa  The  character  of  emotions  changes  so  as  to  comform  tc  tfcat  oi 

perceptions '^71 

Ml    Emotions  characterized  by  rapidity  and  variet*'  .        .         .  '£■  i 


Ill  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  II. 


EMOTIONS   OF    BEAUTY. 
B«4ien  BlC* 

252.  Chi-actdnslics  of  emotions  of  beauty    .        .  ,  2W 

253.  Of  what  is  meant  by  beautiful  objects  .  .  ,  274 
254  Of  the  distinrlion  between  beautiful  and  other  ofcfects  ,  276 
i555  Grounds  or  occasions  of  emotions  of  bea'jty  various  .  27C 
256  All  objects  not  equally  fitted  to  cause  these  emotions  .  .  277 
857     \  susceptibilty  of  emotions  of  beauty  an  ultimate  principle  of  isu 

mental  constitution     .......  .  S78 

158  Remarks  on  the  beauty  of  forms. — The  circle      .         .  .  279 

159  Original  or  intrinsic  beauty. — The  circle  ....  280 
86C  Of  the  beauty  of  straight  £id  angular  forms  .  .  ib 
361  Of  square,  pyra-"\dal,  and  triai.^u.ar  for;ns  .  28' 
362.  Of  r.3  orijrinal  Oi  xitnusic  beauty  of  colours  289 
S63.  Further  ill.  jtratKiis  o.  ihe  original  beauty  of  ClIuuis  .            284 

264  Of  sounds  considered  as  a  source  of  beauty  ....  286 

265  Illustrations  of  the  original  beauty  of  sounds  ....  287 

266.  Further  instances  of  the  original  be.auty  of  sounds         .         .         .  29t1 

267.  The  permanency  of  musical  power  dependent  on  its  being  intrinsic    ib. 

268.  Of  motion  as  an  element  of  beauty 291 

269.  Explanation  of  the  beauty  of  motion  from  Kaiines         .        .        .  292 

CHAPTER  III. 

ASSOCIATED    BEAUTY. 

270.  Associated  beauty  implies  an  antecedent  or  intrinsic  beauty  .  293 

271.  Objects  may  become  beautiful  by  association  merely    .        .        .  294 

272.  Further  illustrations  of  associated  feelings 29S 

273.  Instances  of  national  associations 297 

274.  The  sources  of  associated  beauty  coincident  with  these  cf  human 


happiness 


298 

2715.  Summary  of  views  in  regard  to  the  beautiful        .         .        .  .  29fl 

CHAPTER  IV 

EMOTIONS    OF    SUBLIMITY. 

876.  Connexion  between  beauty  and  sublimity 300 

?77.  The  occasions  of  the  emotions  of  sublimity  various       .         .  .301 

278.  Great  extent  or  expansion  an  occasion  of  sublimity       .         .  302 

279.  Great  height  an  element  or  occasion  of  sublimity          .        .  .    ib. 

280.  Of  depth  in  connexion  with  the  sublime        ....  308 

281.  Of  colours  in  connexion  with  the  sublime      ...  .  304 

282.  Of  sounds  as  furnishing  an  occasion  of  sublime  emotions     .  ,    lU 

283.  Of  motion  in  connexion  with  the  sublime  .  .  .  .  "*.'5 
281  Indications  of  power  accompanied  by  emotions  of  the  iublisr  «  UK 
2*>.i  Of  the  original  or  primary  sublimity  (?f  objects  .  .  3ff; 
J86  Considerations  in  proof  of  the  original  sublimity  of  objects  b. 
2j^3    Influence  ef  association  on  emotio-^s  of  sublimity          .  3t^ 

CHAPTER  V. 

EMOTIONS    OF    THE    LUDICROUS 

188    G-eriBTdl  nature  of  emcf  3ns  of  the  ludicrous                  ,         .  3(S 

289  Occasions  of  emotions  of  the  ludicrous 319 

290  Of  what  is  u  jderstood  by  wit 311 

291  0(  wit  as  it  /onsists  in  burlesque,  Jr  in  debasir.goDjectB  .  ib 
~  292    Of  wit  when  employed  in  aggrandizing  object*     ...  .1M 

293.  Of  the  character  and  occasions  of  humour     ....  31J 

294.  Of  the  practical  utili**  of  feelings  of  the  ludicrous          ,  3H 


CONTENTS.  Xll 


CHAPTER  ^I. 

INSTANCUS   OF    OTHB  it    SIMPLB   EUOTIOMB 

•attai)  •  ,     ,     ,  *** 

295.  Emotior;s  of  cheerfulness,  joy,  and  gladness  .        .  314 

Z9fi.   Kmotiono  of  melancholy,  sorrow,  and  grief  .        .  ,           31S 

297.  Emotions  of  surprise,  astonishment,  and  wondir  .  310 

898    Ein)tions  of  dissatisfaction,  displeasure,  and  disgust  .             ib 

S9S    Emotions  of  (lifTidence,  modesty,  and  shame         .  SIT 

900.  Emotions  of  regavd,  reverence,  and  adoration        .  .                 .    ib 

CLASS  1 1. 

THE    DESIRES. 

CHAPTER  I. 

NATURE    OF    DESIRES. 

SOI.  Of  the  prevalence  of  desire  in  this  department  of  the  mind  JZl 

302.  The  nature  of  desires  known  from  consciousness         .  ib 

30J    Of  the  phice  of  desires  in  relation  to  other  mental  states       .         .322 
304   The  desires  characterized  by  comparative  fixedness  and  peinia- 

nency  ..........  •  323 

305.  Desires  always  imply  an  object  desired 324 

306.  The  fulfilment  of  desires  attended  with  enjoyment       .        .        .    ib- 

307.  Of  variations  or  degrees  in  the  strength  of  "the  desires  .        .        .  325 

308.  Tendency  to  excite  movement  an  attribute  of  desire     .         .         .     ib 

309.  Classification  of  this  part  of  the  sensibilities  ....  328 

310.  The  principles,  based  upon  desire,  susceptible  of  a  twofold  op- 

eration  321 

CHAPTER  n. 

INSTINCTS. 

311.  Of  instincts  in  man  as  compared  with  those  cf  inferio:  animale      320 

312.  Illustrations  of  the  instincts  of  brute  animals        .        .        .        .id. 

313.  Instances  of  instincts  in  the  human  mind 33C 

314  Further  instances  of  instincts  in  men 331 

^16.  Of  the  final  cause  or  use  of  instincts 332 

CHAPTER.  III. 

APPETITES. 

316  Of  the  general  nature  and  characteristics  of  the  appetites    .        .333 

317  The  appetites  necessary  to  our  preservation,  and  not  originally  of 

a  self.sh  character it 

318  Of  the  prevalence  and  origin  of  appetites  for  intoxicating  drugs  .  334 
3 IS.  Of  the  twofold  operation  and  the  moraiity  of  the  appetites    .  33ii 

CHAPTER  IV. 

PROPENSI'^IES. 

J20  General  remarks  on  the  nature  of  ttie  piopensities  .  .  ■  330 
321.  Principle  of  self-preservation,  or  the  desire  of  continv\ed  existence  337 
322  Of  the  twofold  action  of  the  principle  of  self-preservation  .  .  338 
'<23    Of  curiosity,  or  the  desire  of  knowledge ib. 

324  Further  illustrations  of  the  principle  of  curiosity  .        .        .        .339 

325  Of  the  twofold  operation  and  the  morality  of  the  principle  of  curi- 

osity      •        ■  3^ 

KG    Imitativeness,  or  the  proper.sity  to  imitation          .  .           341 

'i27    Practical  res  ilts  if   he  principle  of  imitati-n         .  345J 
li 


XIV 


COTNTENTS. 


SectiOD 

328.  Of  the  nal  urai  desire  of  jsteem 

329.  Of  the  desire  of  esteem  as  a  rule  oi  condiurt  . 

330.  Of  the  desire  of  possession 

331  Oi  the  moral  character  of  the  possessory  principle 

332  01  perversions  of  the  possessory  desire 

333  Of  the  i-'.esire  of  power 

^34  Of  the  moral  character  of  the  desire  of  power 

335.  Propensity  of  self-love,  or  the  desire  of  happiness 

336  Of  selfishness  as  distinguished  from  self-love 

3;>7  Reference  to  the  opinions  of  philosophical  writers 

.1^8  The  principle  of  sociality  original  in  the  human  mina 

J39  Evidence  of  the  existence  of  this  principle  of  sociality 

144  Other  illustrations  of  the  existence  of  this  prmciple 

H  Relation  of  the  social  principle  to  civil  society 


341 
345 
346 
347 
348 
349 
3M 
351 
333 
353 
354 
355 
356 
3f7 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE    MALEVOLENT   AFFECTIONS 


342    Of  tne  comparative  rank  of  the  affections 

343.  Of  the  complex  nature  of  the  affections 

344.  Of  resentment  or  anger  .... 

345.  Illustrations  of  instinctive  resentment    . 

d46.  Uses  and  moral  character  of  instinctive  resentment 

347.  Of  voluntary  m  distinction  from  instinctive  resentment 

348.  Tendency  of  anger  to  excess,  and  the  natural  checks  to  it 

349.  Other  reasons  for  checking  and  subduing  the  angry  passions 

350.  Modifications  of  resentment.     Peevishness 

351.  Modifications  of  resentment.     Envy 

352.  Modifications  of  resentment.     Jealousy 

353.  Modifications  of  resentment.     Revenge 
!?54    Nature  of  the  passion  of  fear 


358 
359 
360 
361 

ib. 
362 
363 
365 
366 
367 
368 
369 

ib 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    BENEVOLENT    AFFECTIONS. 

355.  Of  the  nature  of  love  or  benevolence  in  general    .        .        .  371 

356.  Love,  in  its  various  forms,  characterized  by  a  twofold  artion       .  372 

357.  Of  the  parental  affection ib. 

358.  Illustrations  of  the  strength  of  the  parental  aflfection     .        .        .374 

359.  Of  the  filial  affection 375 

B60.  The  filial  affection  original  or  implanted 376 

361.  Illustrations  of  the  filial  affection 37"( 

362.  Of  the  nature  of  the  fraternal  affection 379 

363.  On  the  utility  of  the  domestic  affections 380 

364.  Of  the  moral  character  of  the  domestic  affections,  and  of  the  be- 

nevolent affections  generally 381 

365  Of  the  moral  character  of  the  voluntary  exercises  of  the  benevo- 

lent affections 382 

i66   Of  the  connexion  between  benevolence  and  rectitude  .  383 

367    Of  humanity,  or  the  love  of  the  human  race  .  384 

366  Further  proofs  in  support  of  the  doctrine  of  an  innate  hunaanity, 

or  love  for  the  human  race 38€ 

369  Proofs  cf  a  humane  or  philanthropic  p  rinciple  from  the  existence 

of  benevolent  institutions 387 

370  Other  remarks  in  proof  of  the  same  doctrine         ...  388 

371.  Of  patriotism  or  love  of  country 389 

372.  Of  the  affection  of  friendship         ....                .  39fl 

373.  Of  the  affection  of  pity  or  sympathy 39: 

374    Of  the  moral  character  of  pity       .        .        .        r        .        .  .  393 

175    Of  the  affection  of  gratitude  .        ,         .                          .        .  .  39^ 


CONTENTS  VV 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    BENEVOLENT    AFFECTIONS, 

LOVE   TO   THE    SUPREME    BEING. 

are*"  Jifan  created  originally  ivith  the  principle  of  love  to  Gfbd  wS 

3T7.    Th'yt  man  was  originalLy  created  with  a  principle  of  love  to  Uod, 

'  irtlier  shown  from  the  Scriptures      .  .  39fl 

378    F'jrther  proof  ti.at  man  was  thus  created 3931 

379.  Relation  of  the  principle  of  supreme  love  to  God  to  the  other 

principles  of  the  pathematic  sensibilities lb 

380  The  absence  of  this  principle  attended  with  an  excessive  and  sin- 

ful action  of  other  principles ■  ^^0 

381  Fi'rthtr  illustrations  of  the  results  of  the  absence  of  this  principle  401 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HABITS   OF    THE    SENSIBILITIES. 

382  Meaning  of  the  term  habit      ....                 .  •  ^ 

383.  Of  hab-.ts  in  connexion  with  the  appetites     .        .        •  ,        .  lb. 

384.  Of  habits  in  connexion  with  the  propensities         .        .  ■  405 

385.  Of  habits  in  connexion  with  the  affections     ...  •  406 
383.  Of  the  origin  of  secondary  active  principles  .        .  -  498 

PART    II. 

THE    MORAL    SENSIBILITIES    OR    CONSCIENCE. 
«OR/lI.    OR  CONSCIENTIOUS    STATES   OV   THE   MIND.— MORAL    SENTIMKNTS 

CHAPTER  I. 

EMOTIONS   OF    MORAL   APPROVAL   AND    DISAPPROVAL. 

587.  Reference  to  the  general  division ^^^ 

388.  Classification  of  the  moral  sensibilities  .        .        .        -        •  414 

389.  Nature  of  the  moral  emotions  of  approval  and- disapproval    .        .    ib. 

390.  Of  the  place  or  position,  mentally  considered,  of  the  emotions  of 

approval  or  disapproval •  i 

391  Changes  in  the  moral  emotions  take  place  in  accordance  with 

changes  in  the  antecedent  perceptions         ....  ib- 

392  Of  objects  of  moral  approval  and  disapproval         ...  *1b 

CHAPTER  II. 

RKLATION   OF    REASONING    TO    THE   MORAL    NATURE 

393.  Of  the  doctrine  which  confounds  reasoning  and  conscience  .  419 

^4    Of  the  close  connexion  between  conscience  and  reasoning  .        .  420 

Si5    Illustration  of  the  preceding  section '♦21 

39a    Of  the  training  or  education  of  the  conscience       .        .        •        -428 
30T.  Of  guilt,  when  a  person  acts  conscientiously  .        •  423 

CHAPTER  III. 
feeliINGs  of  moral  obligation. 
896    Feelings  ot  moral  obligation  distinct  from  feelings  of  moral  appro. 

val  and  disapproval      .        .        .'      .        •  •.       •        •  *2^ 

J99.  Proof  of  the  existence  of  obligatory  feelings  from  ronscioiisnesw  .    lb. 

400  Furth3r  proof  from  the  conduct  of  men  .  ...  423 

401  Further  proof  from  language  and  literature    .        .  .        .  42f 
402.  Further  pro(^f  from  the  necessity  of  these  feelings  .        ■  481 


JCVl  CORTENIS. 

SecHoa  P«fll 

403.  tV;eling8  of  obligation  simple  and  not  susojptiule  ci  deiinition         i'^ 

404.  They  are  susceptible  of  differei  it  degrees       ....  42^ 

405.  Of  :heir  authoritative  and  enforcing  nature it. 

406    Fejlings  of  obligation  diller  from  those  of  mere  approval  and  dis- 
approval  429 

407.  Fe£ lings  of  ob.igation  have  particular  reference  to  the  future  43U 

408.  Feelings  of  obligation  subsequent  in  time  to  the  moral  emotioni 

of  approval  and  disapproval  .......  431 

too    Feelings  of  obligation  differ  from  desires        .  .        .  432 

4!0    tnrther  considerations  on  this  subject  ....  ib. 

CHAPTER  IV 

UNIFORMITY   -'F    ACTION    IN    THE   MORAL    SENSIBILITIES. 

%]  ,  Of  uniformity  in  .le  decisions  of  the  moral  nature  and  the  princi 

pie  on  which  it  is  regulated 43J 

412.  The  nature  of  conscience,  considered  as  a  uniform  principle  of  ac- 

tion, requires  that  it  should  vary  in  its  decisions  with  circum- 
stances        ...........  434 

413.  Diversities  in  moral  decisions  dependent  on  differences  in  the 

amount  of  knowledge  ........  43C 

414.  Of  diversities  in  moral  judgment  in  connexion  with  diPerencee 

in  civil  and  political  institutions 437 

415    Of  diversities  and  obliquities  of  moral  judgment  in  connexion 

with  speculative  opinions ib. 

416.  Further  illustrations  of  the  influence  of  wrong  speculative  opin- 

ions  439 

417.  Influence  of  early  associations  on  moral  judgments       .        .        .  440 
'^  418.  Of  diversities  in  the  moraljudgment  in  connexion  with  anexcifeH 

state  of  the  passions 44( 

CHAPTER  V. 

MORAL    EDUCATION. 

419.  Suggestions  on  the  importance  of  moral  education       .        .        .  44'< 

420.  The  mind  early  occupied  either  with  good  or  bad  principles         .  44o 

421.  Of  the  time  when  moral  instruction  ought  to  commence      .        .  44j 

422.  C*f  the  discouragements  attending  a  process  of  moral  instruction    445 

423.  Of  the  importance,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  of  adopting  correct 

speculative  opinions 44<i 

424.  Of  the  knowledge  of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  of  the  study  of  re- 

ligious truth  generally 44* 

THE  SENSIBILITIES,  OR  SENSITIVE  NATURE. 

SENSITIVE    sTaTES    OF    THE    MIND    OR    SENTIMENTS. 

PART    III. 

T* PERFECT    OR    DISORDERED    SENSITIVE    ACTION. 
CHAPTER  I. 

fiiBOKDfRED    AND   ALIENATED   ACTION   OF    THE    APPETITES   AND    PK  DFKN 
SITIES. 

425.  Int.-oductory  remarks  on  disordered  sensitive  action      .        .451 
426    Of  «vhat  is  meant  by  a  disordered  and  alienated  state  of  the  sensi 

bi  ities "^ 

\Z'    Of -..ae  disordered  and  alienated  action  of  the  appetites         .  453 


CONTENTS  XVII 

iSS.  iJisorderid  aciior.  of  the  pr/nciple  of  self-preseivatio.1  .        .  454 

42a  Disordered  and  alienated  action  of  the  possessory  principle  .  t5i 

ISO  Instances  of  the  second  kind  or  form  of  disordered  action  of  Use 

oossessory  prniciple     .......  .    iu 

131.  Disordered  action  of  nnitativeness,  or  the  principle  of  imitatioji   .  456 

532.  Disordered  action  of  the  principle  of  sociality        .        .        .        .  457 

43.3.  Further  remarks  on  the  disordered  action  of  the  social  propeusitjr  458 

434  Of  the  disordered  action  of  the  desire  of  esteem    .        .        .        .459 

435  Disordered  action  of  the  desire  of  power       .        .  .        .  460 

CHAPTER  n. 

SYMPATHETIC    IMITATION. 

tii.  Of  sympathetic  imitation,  and  what  is  involved  in  It     .        .        .46 

437.  Familiar  instances  of  sympathetic  imitation 468 

438.  Instances  of  sympathetic  imitation  at  the  poor-house  of  Harlem  .  463 

439.  Other  instances  of  this  species  of  imitation    .  .  .  40-1 


CHAPTER  HI. 

DISORDERED    ACTION    OF  THE    AFFECTIONS. 

440   Of  the  states  of  mind  denominated  presentiments 

441.  Of  sudden  and  strong  impulses  of  the  mind  . 

\42.   Insanity  of  the  affections  or  passions     .... 

443.  Of  the  mental  disease  termed  hypochondriasis 

444.  Of  intermissions  of  hypochondriasis,  and  of  its  remedies 

445.  Disordered  action  of  the  passion  of  fear 
446    Perversions  of  the  benevolent  affections 


465 
467 
466 

469 
471 
473 


CHAPTER  IV. 

DISORDERED    ACTION    OF    THE   MORAL   SENSIBILITIES 

447.  Nature  of  voluntarj-  moral  derangement 475 

448.  Of  accountability  in  connexion  with  this  form  of  disordered 

conscience         ..........  476 

449.  Of  natural  or  congenital  moral  derangement    ....  477 
d50.  Moral  accountability  in  cases  of  natural  moral  derangement    .  479 

DIVISION    III. 

THE  WILL. 
VOLITIONS,  OR    VOLITIONAL   STATES   OF   MIND. 

CHAPTER  I. 

GENKRAL  NATURE  OF  THE  WILL. 

451.  The  will  the  third  and  last  department  of  the  mind         .         .  483 

452.  On  the  nature  of  the  will ib. 

453.  Of  the  nature  of  the  acts  of  the  will  or  volitions       .         .        .  484 

454.  Volition  never  exists  without  some  object         .         .         .         .    ib. 

455.  It  exists  in  reference  to  what  we  believe  to  be  in  our  power    .  485 

456.  Volition  relates  to  our  own  action  and  to  whatever  else  maj- 

be  dependent  upon  us 486 

457.  Volitions  involve  a  prospective  element 488 

458.  Volitions  may  exist  with  various  degrees  of  strength      .        .    ib. 

CHAPTER  II. 

ON   THE   LAWS    OF   THE   WILL. 

459.  On  the  universality  of  law 490 

460.  Remarks  of  Hooker  on  the  universality  of  law  .         .         ,  491 

461.  A  presumption  thus  furnished  for  subjection  of  the  will  to  law  492 


XVlll  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

LAWS   OF  THE   WILL  IMPLIKl)   IN  TIIK   PKKSCIIONCK   OR    FORESIGHT  0(< 

„     ,.  THK    DEITY. 

Section  Pog« 

462.  The  notion  which  men  naturally  form  of  the  Deity  implies 

foreknowledge 493 

463.  The  prescience  of  God  directly  taught  in  the  Scriptures  .        .    lb. 
464  The  foreknowledge  of  events  implies  the  foreknowledge  of  vo- 
litions      ...........  494 

465.    Application  of  these  views  to  the  will 49f 

466    The  views  of  this  chapter  in  harmony  with  the  doctrine  of  the 

influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit il> 

CHAPTER  IV. 

LAWS   OF  THK   WILL   IMPLIICU   IN   THE   PRESCIKNCE    OF   MKN. 

467.  Man  as  well  as  Deitj-  susceptible  of  foresight  ....  497 

468.  Prescience  of  men  in  respect  to  their  own  situation,  &c.  .         .  498 

469.  Foresight  of  men  in  respect  to  the  conduct  of  others         .        .  499 

470.  Other  familiar  instances  of  this  foresight 500 

471.  Argument  from  the  regularity  of  voluntary  contributions         .  501 

472.  Of  sagacitj"  in  the  estimate  of  individual  character  .         .         .  502 

473.  Foresight  of  the  conduct  of  masses  of  men  and  nations    .         .  503 

CHAPTER  V- 

ON,.THE    FliElCDOM    OF   THE   WILL. 

474.  Of  the  freedom  of  the  will,  and  of  the  relation  of  its  freedom 

to  its  subjection  to  law 505 

475.  Circumstances  under  which  freedom  of  the  will  exists    .        .  506 

476.  Evidence  of  the  freedom  of  the  will  from  consciousness  .        .  507 

477.  Objection  to  the  argument  from  consciousness         .        .        .  508 

CHAPTER  VI. 

FREEDOM    OF  THE   WILL   IMPLIED   IN    MAnV    MORAL   NAIURF;. 

478.  Of  the  elements  of  man's  moral  nature 509 

479.  Evidence  of  freedom  of  the  will  from  feelings  of  approval  and 

disapproval 510 

480.  Proof  of  freedom  from  feelings  of  remorse         ....  511 

481.  Without  the  possession  of  libertj'  of  will  man  cou'c^  never  have 

framed  the  abstract  notions  of  right  and  wrong      .         .         .512 

482.  Proof  from  feelings  of  moral  obligation 513 

483.  Evidence  from  men's  views  of  crimes  and  punishments  .         .  514 

484.  Prevalent  opinions  of  mankind  on  this  subject ....  516 

485.  Both  views  are  to  be  fully  received   .....         .517 

486.  The  doctrine  of  the  will's  freedom  equally  important  with  that 

of  its  subjection  to  law 518 

CHAPTER  VII. 

ON    THE    POWER    OF    THE    WILL. 

487.  Proof  of  power  in  the  will  from  the  analog}'  of  the  mind        .  519 

488.  Proof  of  power  in  the  will  from  internal  experience        .        ,  520 

489.  Proved  from  the  ability  which  we  have  to  direct  our  atteD''5'>fl 

to  particular  suljjects        .......  521 

490.  Proof  of  power  in  the  will  from  observation      .         .         .  ib. 

491.  Illustration  of  the  subject  from  the  command  of  temper  .  523 

492.  Further  illustrations  of  this  subject  .....  il^ 

493.  Illustrpted  from  the  prosecution  of  some  general  plan      .  Vii 

494.  The  subject  illustrated  from  the  first  settlers  of  New  England  .  526 


495,  Illustrated  by  the  fortitude  exhibited  by  Savages    .        .        •    iU 


MENTAL     PHILOSOPHY. 


DIVISION   FIRST. 
THE  INTELLECT  OR  UNDERSTANDING. 

INTELLECTIVE    OR    INTELLECTUAL    STATES   OF   THS    MOID. 


PART   FIRST. 
INTELLECTUAL  STATES  OF  EXTERNAL  ORIGIN 


MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY. 
CHAPTER  T 

ORIGIN    OF    KNOWLEDGE    IN    GENERAL. 
^  1.  The  mind  susceptible  of  a  threefold  division. 

The  Human  Mind,  regarded  as  a  whole,  is  undouottd- 
I)  to  be  considered  as  constituting  a  natui'e  or  existence 
wliich  is  truly,  and  in  the  strictest  sense,  one  and  indivis- 
ible. At  the  same  time,  if  we  would  have  a  correct  and 
thorough  knowledge  of  it,  it  is  necessary  to  contemplate 
it  in  three  distinct  points  of  view.  Accordingly,  the  lead- 
ing Divisions  in  wdiich  the  Mind  presents  itself  to  our 
notice,  are  the  Understanding  or  Intellect,  the  Sensibili 
ties,  and  the  Will.  The  states  of  mind  which  are  the 
i  esults  of  the  action  of  these  leading  mental  departments, 
are  appropriately  expressed  by  the  phrases  intellectual, 

SENTIENT    or    SENTIMENTIVE,  and  VOLITIONAL    StateS    of 

the  mind.  It  is  the  object  of  this  Abridgment  to  ex- 
amine, in  as  brief  a  manner  as  possible,  these  leading 
Divisions  in  the  order  in  which  they  naturally  present 
themselves; — the  Intellect  being  the  foundation  of  the 
action  of  the  Sensibilities  ;  and  the  sentient  or  senti- 
mcntive  action,  which  is  easily  distinguished  from  that 
of  the  Intellect,  being  followed  by  the  action  of  the  Will. 

^  2.  The  Intellect  susceptible  of  a  subordinate  division. 

We  begin  with  the  Intellect  or  Understanding ;  thai 
department  of  the  mind  by  means  of  which  we  perceive, 
'  ompare,  and  reason ;  and  which,  in  its  various  modes  of 
ij.tion,  is  the  source  of  all  our  knowledge.  The  Intel- 
lectual part  of  man  may  be  considered  under  two  points 
of  new,  viz.,  the  External  Intellect  and  the  Internal  In- 
tellect; in  other  words,  intellectual  states  of  External, 
and  intellectual  states  of  Internal  origin — Intellectua. 
states  of  External  origin  depend  for  their  existence  uix)n 


18  ORIGIN    OF    KNOWLEDGE    L\   GENERA!,. 

the  existence  and  presence  of  eternal  objects'.  If  tht 
mind  were  insulated  and  cut  oft  from  the  outward  and 
material  world,  or  if  there  were  no  such  outward  world, 
we  could  not  touch,  nor  hear,  nor  see.  All  those  mental 
states  which  we  express  when  we  speak  of  the  diversitie« 
of  touch,  and  smell,  and  taste,  of  soimd  and  sight,  are 
iaimediately  dependent  on  the  existence  and  presence  of 
leomething  which  is  exterior  to  the  intellect  itself 

But  there  are  other  states  of  the  Intellect,  such,  for  in- 
stance, as  are  expressed  by  the  words  truth,  falsehood, 

POWER,   INTELLIGENCE,   MERIT,   DEMERIT,   CAUSE,  OBLIGATION, 

&c.,  which  are  not  thus  closely  connected  vnth.  external 
things.  And  these,  in  distinction  from  tliose  of  Exter- 
nal origin,  are  denominated  intellectual  states  of  Internal 
origin. 

^  3.  Of  the  connexion  of  the  mind  with  the  material  world. 

As  a  general  statement,  the  knowledge  which  is  Exter- 
nal in  its  origin  is  acquired  first ;  the  knowledge  which  is 
Internal  is  subsequent.  The  mind,  whatever  may  ulti- 
mately be  found  to  be  the  extent  of  its  powers  of  percep- 
tion, appears,  in  the  first  instance,  to  be  wholly  destitute 
of  any  actual  knowledge ;  and  is  first  brought  into  action 
and  is  put  in  the  way  of  acquiring  knowledge,  by  means 
of  its  connexion  with  the  material  or  outward  world. 

This  leads  us  to  remark,  that  there  is  a  correspondence, 
a  mutual  adaptation,  between  the  mind  and  outward  ma- 
terial things.  They  appear 'to  be  made  for  each  other 
The  Creator  has  obviously  established  a  close  relation 
between  them ;  and  it  is  a  striking  and  important  fact^ 
that,  in  this  connexion  of  the  mental  and  material  world, 
as  we  have  just  had  occasion  to  intimate,  we  are  proba- 
bly to  look  for  the  commencement  of  the  mind's  activity, 
ead  for  the  beginnings  of  knowledge. 

The  soul,  considered  in  its  relationship  to  external  na- 
t^ire,  may  be  compared  to  a  stringed  instrument.  Re- 
garded in  itself,  it  is  an  invisible  existence,  having  the 
capacity  and  elements  of  harmony  The  nerves,  the  eye, 
and  the  senses  generally,  are  the  chords  and  artificial 
fraiaework  which  God  has  woven  round  its  unst^en  and 
unsearchable  essence.     This  living  and  curious  instru- 


ORIGIN   OF   KNOWJ.EDGE    IN   GENERAL,  19 

ment,  made  up  of  the  invisible  soul  and  the  bodily  fraine- 
work  which  suiTOunds  it,  is  at  fust  voiceless  and  silent 
Nor  does  it  appear  that  it  will  ever  send  forth  its  soundif 
of  harmony,  until  it  is  touched  and  operated  upon  by 
those  outwaid  influences  which  exist  in  the  various  forms 
and  adaptations  of  the  material  v.  jrld.  Under  these  in* 
fluences  it  is  first  awakened  into  activity. 

6  4.   Our  first  knowledge  in  general  of  a  material  or  external  origin 

In  accordance  with  what  has  been  said,  w^e  lay  down 
the  general  principles,  first,  that  during  the  early  period 
of  life  there  is  an  intimate  connexion  between  the  mind 
and  the  material  world ;  and,  second,  that  far  the  great- 
er portion  of  the  mind's  acts  during  that  period  can  be 
traced  to  a  material  source.  In  proof  of  both  positions, 
particularly  the  latter,  we  may  properly  attend  to  the  fol- 
lowing considerations. 

(I.)  What  has  been  said  will,  in  the  first  place,  be 
found  agreeable  to  each  one's  individual  experience.  If 
we  look  back  to  the  early  periods  of  fife,  we  discover 
not  merely  that  our  ideas  are  then  comparatively  few  in 
number,  but  that  far  the  greater  proportion  of  them  are 
suggested  by  external  objects.  They  are  forced  upon  us 
by  our  immediate  wants  ;  they  have  relation  tn  what  we 
ourselves  see,  or  hear,  or  touch;  and  only  a  small  pro- 
portion are  internal  and  abstract.  As  we  advance  in 
years,  susceptibilities  of  the  mind  are  brought  into  exer- 
cise, which  have  a  less  intimate  connexion  with  things 
external ;  and  thoughts  from  Mathin  are  more  rapidly 
multiplied  than  from  without.  We  have  in  some  meas- 
ure exhausted  that  which  is  external ;  and  as  the  mind, 
awakened  to  a  love  of  knowledge  and  a  consciousness 
of  its  powere,  has  at  last  been  brought  fully  into  action 
by  means  of  repeated  affections  of  the  senses,  a  new 
world  (as  yet  in  some  degree  a  terra  incognita)  projecti 
itself  upon  our  attention,  where  we  are  called  upon  to 
push  our  researches  and  gratify  our  curiosit}\ — This  is  the 
general  experience,  the  testimony  which  each  ore  can 
giv(i  for  himself. 

^  5.  Shown  further  from  what  we  notice  in  children. 
In  the  second  place,  what  has  been  said  finds  confirms 


20  ORIGIN    OF    KNOWLEDGE    IN    GENERAL. 

tion  in  what  Wtt  observe  of  the  progress  of  the  mind  ur 
infants  and  children  generally.  The  couise  of  things 
which  we  observe  in  them,  agrees  with  what  our  person- 
al consciousness  and  remembrance,  as  far  back  as  it  goes, 
enables  us  to  testily  with  no  little  confidence  in  our  own 
case.  No  one  can  observe  the  operations  of  the  miiad  in 
infants  and  children,  without  being  led  to  believe,  that 
the  Creator  has  instituted  a  connexion  betw^een  the  mind 
and  the  material  world,  and  that  the  greater  portion  of 
our  early  Icnowledge  is  from  an  outward  source. 

To  the  infant  its  nursery  is  the  world.  The  first  idea.*? 
of  the  human  race  are  its  particular  conceptions  of  its 
nurse  and  mother ;  and  the  origin  and  history  of  all  its 
notions  may  be  traced  to  its  animal  wants,  to  the  light 
that  breaks  in  from  its  window,  and  to  the  few  objeds  in 
the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the  cradle  and  hearth. 
When  it  has  become  a  few  years  of  age,  there  are  other 
sources  of  information,  other  fountains  of  thought,  but 
they  are  still  external  and  material.  The  child  then 
learns  the  topography  of  his  native  village  ;  he  explores 
the  margin  of  its  river,  ascends  its  flowering  hills,  and 
penetrates  the  seclusion  of  its  valleys.  His  mind  is  full 
of  activity ;  new  and  exalting  view^s  crowd  upon  his  per- 
ceptions ;  he  beholds,  and  hears,  and  handles ;  he  won- 
ders, and  is  delighted.  And  it  is  not  till  after  he  has 
grasped  the  elements  of  knowledge  which  the  outward 
world  gives,  that  he  retires  within  himself,  compares, 
reasons,  and  seeks  for  causes  and  eflfects. 

It  is  in  accordance  with  what  has  now  been  stated  ol 
die  tendencies  of  mind  in  children,  that  we  generally  find 
them  instructed  by  means  of  sensible  objects,  or  by  pic- 
tures of  such  objects.  When  their  teachers  make  an  ab- 
ij^ract  statement  to  them  of  an  action  or  event,  they  dc? 
not  understand  it ;  they  listen  to  it  with  an  appearance 
of  confusion  and  vacancy,  for  the  process  is  undoubtedly 
igainst  nature.  But  show  them  the  objects  themselves, 
or  a  faithful  picture  of  them,  and  interpi-et  your  abstract 
expressions  by  a  reference  to  the  object  or  picture,  and 
they  are  observed  to  learn  with  rapidity  and  pleasure- 
The  time  has  not  yet  arrived  for  the  springing  up  anr* 
growth  of  thoughts  oi'  an  internal  and  abstract  orijjcin. 


ORIGIN    OF    l^'OWLEDCV,    IN    GENERAL  21 

I)  6.  Furllwr  proof  of  the  beginnings  of  kr.owletlge  from  external  causes, 
111  the  third  place,  the  history  of  language  is  a  strong; 
proof  of  the  correctness  of  the  position,  that  the  mind  ij 
lirst  brought  into  action  by  means  of  the  senses,  and  ac- 
quires its  earliest  knowledge  from  that  source.  At  fu-st 
words  are  few  in  number,  corresponding  to  the  Ihnited  ex- 
tent of  ideas.  The  vocabulary  of  savage  tribes  (those, 
for  example,  which  inhabit  the  American  continent)  is  in 
general  exceedingly  limited.  The  growth  of  a  language 
corresponds  to  the  growth  of  mind ;  it  extends  itself  by 
the  increased  number  and  power  of  its  words,  nearly 
hi  exact  correspondence  with  the  multiplication  and  the 
increased  complexity  of  thought.  Now  the  history  of  all 
languages  teaches  us,  that  words,  w^hich  were  invented 
and  brought  into  use  one  after  another  in  the  gradual  way 
just  mentioned,  were  first  employed  to  express  external 
objects,  and  afterward  were  used  to  express  thoughts  of 
internal  origin. 

Almost  all  the  words  in  every  language,  expressive  of 
the  susceptibilities  and  operations  of  the  mind,  may  be 
clearly  shoAvn  to  have  had  an  external  origin  and  appli- 
cation before  they  were  applied  to  the  mind.  To  imagine, 
in  its  literal  signification,  implies  the  forming  of  a  picture ; 
to  IMPRESS  conveys  the  idea  of  leaving  a  stamp  or  mark, 
as  the  seal  leaves  its  exact  likeness  or  stamp  on  wax ;  to  re- 
flect literally  means  to  turn  back,  to  go  over  the  ground 
again,  &c.  These  words  cannot  be  applied  to  the  mind 
in  the  literal  sense ;  the  nature  of  the  mind  wdll  not  admit 
of  such  an  application ;  the  inference  therefore  is,  that 
they  first  had  an  external  application.  Now  if  it  be  an 
established  truth,  as  the  history  of  languages  seems  to 
show  that  it  is,  that  all  language  has  a  primary  reference 
to  external  objects,  and  that  there  is  no  term  expressive 
of  mental  acts  which  was  not  originally  expressive  of 
something  material,  the  conclusion  would  seem  to  be  a 
fair  one,  that  the  part  of  our  knowledge  which  has  its  rise 
by  means  of  the  senses,  is,  as  a  general  statement,  first  in 
origin.  And  the  m^re  so,  when  we  combine  with  these 
views  the  considerations  which  have  been  prenously  aH- 
V a need, 

B 


t2  OKIGIN    OF    KNOWLEDGE    IN    GENERAL. 

1}  7.  The  same  subject  furtlier  illustrated. 

And.  ill  the  fourth  r)lace,  it  is  not  too  much  to  saj  thai 
all  the  observations  which  have  been  made  on  persons 
who,  from  their  birth  or  at  any  subsequent  period,  have 
been  deprived  of  any  of  the  senses,  and  all  the  extraordi- 
nary facts  which  have  come  to  knowledge,  having  a  bear- 
uig  on  this  ini.uiry,  go  strongly  in  favour  of  the  views 
which  have  been  given. — It  appears,  for  instance,  from  the 
obserA'ations  which  have  been  made  in  regard  to  persons 
who  have  been  deaf  until  a  particular  period,  and  then 
have  been  restored  to  the  power  of  hearing,  that  they  ha\e 
never  previously  had  those  ideas  which  naturally  come  in 
by  that  sense.  If  a  person  has  been  born  blind,  the  re- 
sult is  the  same  ;  or  if,  having  the  sense  of  sight,  it  has  so 
happened  that  he  has  never  seen  any  colours  of  a  partic- 
ular description.  In  the  one  case,  he  has  no  ideas  of  col- 
ours at  all;  and  in  the  other,  only  of  those  colours  which 
he  has  seen. — It  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that  this  is  what 
might  be  expected,  and  merely  proves  the  senses  to  be  a 
source  of  knowledge,  without  necessarily  involving  the 
priority  of  that  knowledge  to  what  has  an  internal  origin. 
But  then  obser^'e  the  persons  referred  to  a  little  further, 
and  it  will  be  found,  as  a  general  statement,  that  the  in- 
ternal powers  of  their  minds  have  not  been  unfolded ;  they 
lay  wi-apped  up  in  a  great  measure  in  their  original  dark- 
ness ;  no  inward  light  springs  up  to  compensate  for  the 
absence  of  that  which,  in  other  cases,  bursts  in  from  the 
outward  worhl.  This  circumstance  evidently  tends  to 
confirm  the  principles  which  we  are  endeavouring  to  il- 
lustrate. 

Of  those  extraordinary  instances  to  w^hich  we  alluded, 
as  having  thrown  some  light  on  the  history  of  our  intel- 
lectual acquisitions,  is  the  actcount  which  is  given  in  the 
Memoirs  of  the  French  Academy  of  Sciences  for  the  year 
17()3,  of  a  deaf  and  dumb  young  man  in  the  city  of  Char- 
trea  At  the  age  of  three-and-twenty,  it  so  happened,  to 
the  great  surprise  of  the  whole  tov/n,  that  he  was  sud- 
:1enly  restored  to  the  sense  of  hearing,  and  in  a  short  time 
he  ud'-quired  the  use  of  language.  Deprived  for  so  long  a 
period  of  a  sense  wdiich,  in  importance,  ranks  with  the 
sight  and  the  touch,  unable  to  hold  conamunion  with  his 


ORIGuN    OF    KXOWLKDGE    IN    UENEKAL.  23 

tdlow-beings  by  means  of  oral  or  written  language,  and 
not  particularly  compelled,  as  he  had  every  care  taken  of 
him  by  his  friends  and  relations,  to  bring  his  faculties  into 
exercise,  the  powers  of  his  mind  remained  without  hav- 
ing opportunity  to  unfold  themselves.  Being  examined 
by  some  men  of  discermnent,  it  was  found  that  he  had  no 
idea  of  a  God,  of  a  soul,  of  the  moral  merit  or  demeril 
of  human  actions,  and,  what  might  seem  to  be  yet  more 
remarkable,  he  knew  not  what  it  was  to  die  ;  the  agonies 
'of  dissolution,  the  grief  of  friends,  and  the  ceremonies 
of  interment  being  to  him  inexplicable  mysteries. 

Here  we  see  how  much  knowledge  a  person  was  de- 
prived of,  merely  by  his  wanting  the  single  sense  of  hear- 
ing ;  a  proof  that  the  senses  were  designed  by  our  Cre- 
ator to  be  the  first  source  of  knowledge,  and  that  without 
them  the  faculties  of  the  soul  would  never  become  oper- 
ative 

(}  8.  Illustration  from  the  case  of  James  Mitc'icll. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  instance  of  this  sort  which  m 
genious  men  have  noticed  and  recorded.  In  the  Transac- 
tions of  the  Royal  Societ}'  at  Edinburgh,  (vol.  vii.,  pai-t 
i.,)  is  a  Memoir  communicated  by  Dugald  Stewart,  which 
gives  an  account  of  James  Mitchell,  a  boy  born  deaf  and 
blind.  The  history  of  this  lad,  who  laboured  under  the 
uncommon  affliction  of  this  double  deprivation,  illustrates 
and  confirms  all  that  has  been  above  stated.  He  made 
what  use  he  could  of  the  only  senses  which  he  possessed, 
those  of  touch,  taste,  and  smell,  and  gained  from  them  a 
number  of  ideas.  It  was  a  proof  of  the  diligence  with 
which  he  employed  the  limited  means  which  were  given 
him,  that  he  had  by  the  sense  of  touch  thoroughly  ex- 
plored the  ground  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  house 
where  he  lived  for  hundreds  of  yards.  But  deprived  of 
sight,  of  hearing,  and  of  intercourse  by  speech,  it  was 
very  evident  to  those  who  observed  him,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, that  his  knowledge  was  in  amount  exceedingly 
small.  He  was  destitute  of  those  perceptions  whicli  are 
appropriate  to  the  particular  senses  of  which  he  was  de- 
prived; and  also  of  many  other  notions  of  an  internal 
origin,  which  would   undoubtedly  have   arisen,  if  the 


24  SKNSATION    ANb    PERCEPTION. 

powers  of  tie  mind  had  previously  been  rendei  ed  fullj 
operative  by  means  of  those  assistances  which  it  usually 
receives  from  the  bodily  organs. — Such  instances  as  these, 
however  they  may  at  first  appear,  are  extreraely  impor 
tant.  They  furnish  us  with  an  appeal,  not  to  mere  spec- 
ulations, but  to  fact.  ,  And  it  is  only  by  checking  undue 
speculation,  and  by  continually  recui-ring  to  facts,  that 
our  programs  in  this  science  will  become  sure,  rapid,  and 
delightful. 


CHAPTER  n. 

-  SENSATION  AND  PERCEPTION. 

^  9.    Sensation  a  simple  mental  state  originating  in  the  senses. 

In  tracing  the  history  of  that  portion  of  human  thought 
which  )S  of  external  origin,  w^e  have  fiequent  occasion  to 
make  me  of  the  words  Sensation  and  Perception.  The 
term  seivsation  is  not  of  so  general  a  nature  as  to  include 
every  v^iriety  of  mental  state,  but  is  limited  to  such  as 
answer  to  a  particular  description.  It  does  not  appear 
that  the  usage  of  language  would  forbid  our  speaking  of 
the  feelings  of  warmth,  and  coldness,  and  hardness,  as 
well  as  of  the  feelings  of  love,  and  benevolence,  and  an- 
ger, but  it  would  clearly  forbid  our  using  the  term  sensa- 
tion w^th  an  application  equally  extensive.  Its  applica- 
tion is  not  only  limited,  but  is  fixed  with  a  considerable 
degree  of  precision. 

Sensation,  being  a  simple  act  or  state  of  the  mind,  13 
unsusceptible  of  definition ;  and  this  is  one  of  its  charac- 
teristics. As  this  alone,  however,  would  not  separate  it 
from  many  other  mental  states,  it  has  this  pecuUarity  to 
(distinguish  it,  that  it  is  immediately  successive  to  a  changi 
in  some  organ  r\f  sense,  or,  at  least,  to  a  bodily  change  oj 
K^me  kind.  But  it  is  evident,  that,  in  respect  to  numerous 
other  feelings,  this  statement  does  not  hold  good.  They 
are  iininediateiy  subsequent,  not  to  bodily  impressions, 
but  to  other  states  of  the  soul  itself.     Hence  it  is,  tha^ 


^FlfSATION    AMD    PERCEPTION.  '25 

while  we  speak  of  the  sensations  of  heat  and  -':old,  of 
hardness,  of  smoothness,  roughness,  and  the  hke,  we  do 
not  comnionly  apply  this  term  to  joy  and  sorrow,  hatred 
and  love^  and  other  emotions  and  passions. 

6  10.  All  sensation  is  properly  and  truly  in  tl  e  mind. 

Sensation  is  often  regarded  as  something  having  a  po- 
sition, and  as  taking  place  in  the  body,  and  particularly 
in  the  organ  of  sense.  The  sensation  of  touch,  as  we 
seem  to  imagine,  is  in  the  hand,  which  is  the  organ  of 
touch,  and  is  not  truly  internal ;  the  hearing  is  in  the  ear, 
and  the  vision  in  the  eye,  and  not  in  the  soul.  But  all 
we  can  say  with  truth  and  on  good  gicands  is,  that  the 
organs  of  sense  are  accessory  to  sensation  and  necessary 
to  it ;  but  the  r^^nsation  or  feeling  itself  is  wholly  in  the 
mind.  How  often  it  is  said  the  eye  sees ;  but  the  pioper 
language,  if  we  look  at  the  subject  philosophically,  is, 
that  the  soul  sees  ;  for  the  eye  is  only  the  organ,  instru- 
ment, or  minister  of  the  soul  in  visual  perceptions. 

"  A  man,"  says  Dr  Reid,  "  cannot  see  the  satellites 
of  Jupiter  but  by  a  telescope.  Does  he  conclude  from 
this  that  it  is  the  telescope  that  sees  those  stars  ?  By 
no  means ;  such  a  conclusion  would  be  absurd.  It  is  n  ) 
less  absurd  to  conclude  that  it  is  the  eye  that  sees,  or  the 
ear  that  hears.  The  telescope  is  an  artificial  organ  o." 
sight,  but  it  sees  not  The  eye  is  a  natural  organ  oi" 
sight,  by  which  we  see ;  but  the  natural  organ  sees  as  lit 
tie  as  the  artificial." 

iji  11.   Sensations  arc  not  images  or  resemblances  of  objects. 

But  while  we  are  careful  to  assign  sensations  their  true 
place  in  the  mind,  and  to  look  upon  what  is  outward  in 
!he  body  as  merely  the  antecedents  or  cause  of  them,  it  is 
a  matter  of  some  consequence  to  guard  against  a  danger 
:li:ectly  the  reverse  of  that  which  has  been  remarked  on 
We  are  apt  to  transfer  to  the  sensation,  considered  as  ex- 
isting in  the  mind,  some  of  those  qualities  which  belong  to 
(he  external  object.  But  in  point  of  fact,  our  sensations 
•lire  by  no  means  copies,  pictures,  or  nnages  of  outwaril  o'lj- 
(ecfs  ;  nor  are  they  representations  of  them  in  any  material 
bense  whatever ;  nor  do  they  possess  any  of  their  quallics 


t6  SENSATION    ANl    PERCEPTICN. 

It  is  true,  we  often  think  it  otherwise  *  cunstaiilly  oc! 
cunied  with  external  objects,  when  in  the  act  of  rcn 
remplation  we  retire  within  the  mind,  we  unwarily  cair) 
with  us  the  form  and  qualities  of  matter,  and  stamp  iti 
J.keness  on  the  thought  itself.  But  the  thought,  whatev- 
er it  may  by  the  constitution  of  our  nature  be  the  sign  of, 
has  no  form,  and  presents  no  image  analogous  to  what 
are  outwardly  objects  of  touch  and  sight ;  nor  has  it  form 
or  image  in  any  sense  wdiich  we  can  conceive  of.  When, 
therefore,  \re  have  an  idea  of  some  object  as  round,  we 
are  not  to  infer,  from  the  existence  of  the  quality  in  the 
outward  object,  that  the  mental  state  is  possessed  of  the 
same  quality.  When  we  think  of  an}i;hing  as  extended, 
it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  thought  itself  has  exten- 
sion. When  we  behold  and  admire  the  varieties  of 
colour,  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  indulge  the  presumption 
that  the  inward  feelings  are  painted  over,  and  radiani 
with  corresponding  huc«.  There  is  nothing  of  the  kind  j 
and  the  admission  of  such  a  principle  would  lead  to  a 
multitude  of  errors. 

<)   12.  The  connexion  between  the  mental  and  physical  change  not  capa- 
ble of  explanation. 

(I.)  External  bodies  operate  on  the  senses,  before 
there  is  any  affection  of  the  mind,  but  it  is  not  easy  to  say 
what  the  precise  character  and  extent  of  this  operation 
is.  We  know  that  some  object  capable  of  affecting  the 
organ  must  be  applied  to  it  in  some  w^ay  either  directly  or 
indirectly,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  knowledge  also,  that  some 
change  in  the  organ  actually  takes  place;  but  further 
than  this  we  are  involved  in  uncertainty.  All  we  can 
undertake  to  do  at  present  is  merely  to  make  a  statement 
of  the  facts,  viz.,  the  application  of  an  external  body, 
and  some  change  in  consequence  of  it  in  the  organ  of 
sense. 

(H.)  Subsequently  to  the  change  in  the  organ,,  either 
at  its  extremity  and  outward  develop  ement  or  in  the 
brain,  with  which  it  is  connected,  and  of  which  it  may  be 
considered  as  making  a  part,  a  change  in  the  mind  or  a 
new  state  of  the  mind  immediately  takes  place.  Here 
also  we  are  limited  to  the  mere  statement  of  the  fact 


fjENSATION    AND    PERCEPTION.  27 

W*;  iifre  touch  upon  one.  of  those  boundaiies  of  the  in- 
tellect which  men  are  probably  not  destined  to  pas5  in  the 
present  life.  We  find  ourselves  unable  to  resolve  and 
explain  the  connexion  between  mind  and  matter  in  this 
case,  as  we  do  m  all  others.  All  we  know,  and  all  we 
can  state  with  confidence  is,  that  a  mental  affection  is 
immediately  subsequent  to  an  affection  or  change  which 
is  phj^sical.  Such  is  our  nature,  and  such  the  appoint- 
ment  of  Hun  who  ordered  it. 

(j  13.  Of  the  meaning  and  nature  of  perception. 

We  next  come  to  the  subject  of  perception,  which  la 
Ultimately  connected  with  that  of  sensation.  This  term, 
like  many  others,  admits  of  a  considerable  latitude  in  its 
application.  In  common  language  we  are  not  only  said 
to  have  the  power  of  perceiving  outward  objects,  but  also 
of  perceiving  the  agreement  or  disagreement  in  the  acts 
of  the  mind  itself.  Accordingly,  we  perceive  a  tree  in 
the  forest  or  a  ship  at  sea,  and  we  also  perceive  that  the 
whole  is  greater  than  a  part,  and  that  the  three  angles  of 
a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles.  But  what  we 
have  to  say  here  does  not  concern  internal  perception,  but 
merely  that  which  relates  to  objects  exterior  to  the  mind 

Perception,  using  the  term  in  its  application  to  outward 
objects,  differs  from  sensation  as  a  whole  does  from  a  part ; 
it  embraces  more.  It  may  be  defined,  therefore,  an  affec- 
tion or  state  of  the  mind  which  is  immediately  successive, 
to  certain  affections  of  the  organs  of  sense,  and  which  ii 
referred  by  us  to  something  external  as  its  cause. 

^  14.   Perception  makes  us  acquainted  with  a  material  world. 

It  will  be  recollected,  that  the  term  sensation,  when 
applied  to  the  mind,  expresses  merely  the  state  of  the 
mir.d,  without  reference  to  anything  external,  which  might 
be  the  cause  of  it,  and  that  it  is  the  name  of  a  truly  sim- 
ple feeling.  Perception,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  name  of 
a  complex  mental  state,  including  not  merely  the  internal 
affection  of  the  mind,  but  also  a  reference  to  the  exterioi 
cause.  Sensation  is  wholly  within ;  but  Perception  car- 
ries us,  as  it  were,  out  of  ourselves,  jind  makes  us  ac- 
quainted with  the  world  around  us.     It  is  especially  b^ 


88  SENSAT'ON    AND   PERCEPTIOX. 

lueaiiiS  of  lliis  last  power,  that  material  nature,  in  all  its 
varieties  of  form  and  beauty,  is  brought  within  the  range 
nf  our  inspection.  If  we  had  bul;  sensation  alone,  there 
would  still  be  form,  and  fragrance,  and  colour,  and  har- 
mony of  sound,  but  it  would  seem  to  be  wholly  inward 
The  mind  would  seem  to  constitute  everj'thing ;  we  could 
know  no  other  world,  no  other  form  of  being.  Percep- 
tion prevents  the  possibility  of  such  a  mistake ;  it  unde- 
ceives and  dissipates  the  flattering  notion,  that  all  things 
are  in  the  soul ;  it  leads  us  to  other  existences,  and,  in 
particular,  to  the  knowledge  of  the  vast  and  complicated 
6ibric  of  the  material  creation. 

^  15.   Of  the  primary  and  secondary  qualities  of  matter 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  will  be  noticed  that  sen- 
sation implies  the  existence  of  an  external  material  world 
fts  its  cause,  and  that  perception  implies  the  same  exist- 
ence both  as  cause  and  object.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
My,  that  we  are  altogether  ignorant  of  the  subjective  or 
real  essence  of  matter.  Our  knowledge  embraces  merely 
its  qualities  or  properties,  and  nothing  more.  Without 
proposing  to  enter  into  a  minute  examination  of  them,  it 
will  be  proper  to  state  here,  that  the  qualities  of  material 
bodies  have  been  ranked  by  writers  under  the  two  h^ads 
of  Primary  and  Secondary. 

The  PRIMARY  QUALITIES  are  known  by  being  essential  to 
;ne  existence  of  all  bodies.  They  are  extension,  figuie, 
divisibility,  and  solidity ;  and  some  writers  have  included 
motion.  They  are  called  primary  for  the  reason  already 
distinctly  referred  to,  that  all  men  embrace  them  in  the 
notions  which  they  form  of  matter,  and  that  they  are  es- 
sential to  its  existence.  All  bodies  have  extension,  all 
bodies  l-we  figure,  all  are  capable  of  division,  all  possess 
rtie  attribute  of  solidity. 

By  SOLIDITY  in  bodies  (perhaps  some  would  prefer  the 
term  resistance)  is  to  be  understood  that  quality  by  \yhich 
a  body  hinders  the  approach  of  others  between  which  it 
is  interposed.  In  this  sense  even  water,  and  ?11  other 
fluids  arc  solid.  If  particles  of  water  could  be  prevented 
from  separating,  they  would  oppose  no  great  resistance, 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  unj  two  bodies  be tweeu 


SENSATION    AND   PERCEPTION.  29 

which  they  might  be  to  eome  in  contact.  This  was 
shown  in  an  experiment  which  was  once  made  at  Flor- 
ence. A  quantity  of  water  was  enclosed  in  a  gold  ball, 
which,  on  the  most  violent  pressure,  could  not  be  made  to 
fill  the  internal  cavity  until  the  water  inside  was  forced 
through  the  pores. 

There  is  reason  also  for  that  part  of  the  arrangement 
which  includes  divisibility.  We  cannot  conceive  of  a 
particle  so  small  as  not  to  be  susceptible  of  division 
And  to  that  small  particle  must  belong,  not  only  divisi- 
bility, but  the  qualities  of  solidity,  extension,  and  figure. 

^16.  Of  the  secondary  qualities  of  matter. 

The  SECONDARY  qualities  of  bodies  are  of  two  kinds 
(].)  Those  which  have  relation  to  the  perceiving  and 
sentient  mind;  (2.)  Those  which  have  relation  to  other 
bodies. 

Under  the  first  class  are  to  be  included  sound,  colour, 
taste,  smell,  hardness  and  softness,  heat  and  cold,  rough- 
ness and  smoothness,  &c.  When  we  say  of  a  body  it 
has  sound,  we  imply  in  this  remark  that  it  possesses 
qualities  wdiich  will  cause  certain  effects  in  the  mind ; 
the  term  sound  being  applicable,  by  the  use  of  languagej 
both  to  the  qualities  of  the  external  object  and  to  the  ef- 
fect produced  within.  When  w^e  say  ic  has  colour,  we 
always  make  a  like  reference  to  the  mind,  which  beholds 
and  contemplates  it ;  and  it  is  the  same  of  the  oth^r  sec- 
ondary qualities  of  this  description. 

The  other  class  of  secondary  qualities,  (or  properti'is, 
as  they  are  not  unfrequently  termed,)  those  which  have 
relation  to  other  material  bodies,  are  exceedingly  vario'is 
and  numerous.  The  material  substance  which,  m  rela- 
tion to  the  mind,  possesses  the  qualities  of  sound  and  col- 
our, may  possess  also,  in  relation  to  other  bodies,  the  qua)* 
lius  or  properties  of  malleability,  fusibility,  soiubilijy. 
[K.Tmeability,  and  the  like. 

C2 


30  l-HE   SENSES   OF   SMELL    AND   T\STE 

CHAPTER  ffl. 

THE    SENSES   OF    SMELL    AND    TASTE. 
^  iV.  Nature  and  im[„ortance  of  the  senses  as  a  source  of  k/■o^v!cdg9, 

Ir  is  desirable  to  keep  clearly  in  mind  the  precise  re- 
lation of  the  senses  to  the  origin,  progress,  and  amount 
of  our  knowledge,  and  to  possess,  if  possible,  a  correct 
understanding  of  their  true  value.  In  a  certain  sense,  the 
possession  of  the  bodily  organs  with  which  we  are  fur- 
nished, is  not  essential  and  prerequisite  to  the  possession 
of  that  knowledge  which  we  are  accustomed  to  ascribe 
*.o  them.  There  is  nothing  unwarrantable  and  unreason- 
able in  the  supposition,  that  the  knowledge  which  we 
now  have  by  their  means  might  have  been  possessed 
without  their  aid,  either  immediately,  or  in  some  way 
altogether  different.  Their  use  and  indispensableness  in 
the  acquisition  of  a  certain  portion  of  what  men  are  per- 
mitted to  know,  is  a  matter  of  arrangement  and  appoint- 
ment on  the  part  of  our  Maker.  It  is  undoubtedly  an 
evidence  of  the  correctness  of  this  remark,  that  the  Su- 
preme Being  has  a  full  acquaintance  with  all  those  out- 
ward objects  which  present  themselves  to  our  notice, 
without  being  indebted  to  any  material  instrumentality 
and  mediation.  He  perceives  in  another  way,  or,  rather, 
all  knowledge  is  inherent  in,  and  originally  and  unalter- 
ably essential  to  him.self. 

It  is  not  so,  as  Ave  have  reason  to  believe,  with  any 
other  beings,  and  certainly  not  with  man.  Although  a 
gi-eat  part  of  his  knowledge  relates  to  material  things,  he 
is  so  formed,  and  his  constitution  is  so  ordered,  that  he  is 
wholly  dependent  for  it  on  the  senses. — Deprive  him  of 
the  ear,  and  all  nature  becomes  silent ;  deprive  him  of 
the  eye,  and  the  sun  and  moon  withdraw  their  light,  and 
tlie  universe  becomes  darkened  ;  deprive  him  of  the  sense 
of  touch,  and  l.e  is  then  entirely  insulated,  and  as  much 
cut  off  from  all  communication  Vt^ith  others  as  if  I  c  wer^i 
the  only  being  in  esistenct. 


THE    SENSES    OF    SMELL    AND    TASTE.  31 

^  18.   Connesion  of  the  brain  with  sensation  and  perception 

(I.)  It  may  perhaps  be  asked,  Whether  these  views 
a,e  intended  to  exclude  the  brain,  as  having  a  connexion 
with  the  senses  in  the  results  which  are  here  ascribed  to 
them  7    And  this  inquiry  leads  us  to  observe,  (what  has 
been  before  alluded  to,)  that  the  brain  is  a  prominent  or» 
gan  in  the  material  part  of  the  process  of  sensation  and 
of  external  perception.     The  senses  evidently  cannot  be 
separated  from  the  nervous  system.     But  the  substance 
which  is  found  in  the  nerves,  excepting  the  coat  in  which 
it  is  enveloped,  is  the  same  as  in  the  brain,  being  of  the 
pame  soft  and  fibrous  texture,  and  in  continuity  with  it 
As  a  general  statement,  when  the  brain  has  been  in  an} 
way  injured,  the  inward  sensation,  which  would  other- 
wise be  distinct  on  the  presence  of  an  external  body,  is 
imperfect.     Also,  if  the  nerve  be  injured,  or  if  its  conti- 
nuity be  disturbed  by  the  pressure  of  a  tight  ligature,  the 
effect  is  the  same ;  a  circumstance  which  goes  to  confii-m 
the  alleged  identity  of  substance  in  the  two. 

(II.)  The  brain,  therefore,  and  w'hatever  of  the  same 
substance  is  in  continuity  wdtli  it,  particularly  the  nerves, 
constitutes  the  sensorial  organ,  which,  in  the  subordinate 
organs  of  taste,  smell,  sight,  touch,  and  hearing,  presents 
itself  under  different  modifications  to  external  objects.  On 
this  organ,  the  sensorial,  as  thus  explained,  an  impression 
iiust  be  made  before  there  can  be  sensation  and  percep- 
tion. 

An  impression,  for  instance,  is  made  on  that  part  of  the 
sensorial  organ  called  the  auditory  nerve,  and  a  state  of 
mind  immediately  succeeds  which  is  variously  termed,  ac- 
cording to  the  view  in  which  it  is  contemplated,  either 
the  sensation  or  the  perception  of  sound. 

An  impression  is  made  by  the  rays  of  light  on  that  ex- 
pansion of  the  optic  nerve  which  forms  what  is  called  the 
RETINA  of  the  eye,  and  the  intellectual  principle  is  imme- 
diately brought  into  that  new  position,  which  is  termed 
^ual  perception  or  a  perception  of  sight. 

The  hand  is  impressed  on  a  body  of  an  uneven  and 
rough  surface,  and  immediately  consequent  on  this  appli- 
cation and  pressure  is  that  state  of  mind  which  is  termed 
a  sensation  o'  perception  of  rougliness. 


32  THE    SENSES    OF   SMELL    AND    TASTE. 

{  19.  Order  in  which  the  senses  are  to  be  considered. 

In  considering  those  ideas  which  we  become  possessed 
of  by  means  of  the  senses,  it  is  natural  to  begin  wiih  that 
sense  which  will  cause  us  the  least  difficulty  in  the  anal- 
ysis of  its  results ;  and  to  proceed  to  others  successively. 
as  we  find  them  increasing  in  importance.  It  may  not  be 
altogether  easy  to  apply  this  princi})le  with  strictness,  but 
't  will  answer  all  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  here  intro- 
duced, if  we  consider  the  senses  in  the  following  order, 
the  smell,  taste,  hearing,  touch,  and  sight. 

The  mind  hokis  a  communication  with  the  material 
world  by  means  of  the  sense  of  smelling.  All  animal 
and  vegetable  bodies  (and  the  same  will  probably  hold 
good  of  other  bodies,  though  generally  in  a  less  degree) 
are  continually  sending  out  effluvia  of  great  subtilty. 
These  small  particles  are  rapidly  and  widely  scattered 
abroad  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  body  from  which  they 
proceed.  No  sentient  being  can  come  within  the  circum- 
I'erencc  occupied  by  these  continually  moving  and'  vola- 
tile atoms,  without  experiencing  effects  from  it. 

()  20.   Of  the  sense  and  sensations  of  sineU. 

The  medium  through  which  we  have  the  sensations 
and  perceptions  of  smell,  is  the  organ  which  is  termed 
the  olfactory  nerve,  situated  principally  in  the  nostrils,  but 
partly  in  some  continuous  cavities.  When  some  odorifer- 
ous particles,  sent  from  external  objects,  affect  this  organ, 
there  is  a  certain  state  of  mind  produced  which  varies 
with  the  nature  of  the  odoriferous  bodies.  But  we  can  no 
more  infer  from  the  sensation  itself  merely,  that  there  ex- 
ists any  necessary  connexion  between  the  smell  and  the 
external  objects,  than  that  there  exists  a  connexion  be- 
t\\  een  the  emotions  of  joy  and  sorrow  and  the  same  ob- 
jects. It  might  indeed  be  suggested  to  us  by  the  change 
m  our  mental  states,  that  there  must  be  some  cause  or  an- 
tecedent to  the  change,  but  this  suggestion  w^ould  be  far 
from  implying  the  necessity  of  a  corporeal  cause. 

(II.)  How  then  does  it  happen,  that  we  are  not  merely 
5i.nsib]e  of  the  particular  sensation,  but  refer  it  at  once  to 
soiae  external  object,  to  the  rose,  or  the  honeysuckle  1 
[n  rnswer  it  may  be  remarked,  if  we  had  always  been 


I'HE    fclEN'SES    OF    SMELL    AND    TASTE.  33 

destitute  of  the  senses  of  sight  and  touch,  this  referemc 
never  could  have  been  made;  but,  having  been  furnishecJ 
•,vitb  them  by  the  beneficent  Author  of  our  being,  we 
'oake  this  reference  by  experience.  When  we  have  seen 
the  rose,  when  we  have  been  near  to  it  and  handled  it,  we 
have  uniformly  been  conscious  of  that  state  of  mind  which 
we  terra  a  sensation  of  smell.  When  we  have  come  into 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  honeysuckle,  or  when  it  has 
been  gathered  and  presented  to  us,  we  have  been  remind- 
ed of  its  fragrance.  And  thus,  having  learned  by  expe- 
rience that  the  presence  of  the  odoriferous  body  is  always 
attended  ■s\nth  the  sensations  of  smell,  we  form  the  habi' 
of  attributing  the  sensations  to  that  body  as  then  caase 

1^  21.  Of  perceptions  of  smell  in  distinction  from  sensatK.ns. 

The  mental  reference  spoken  of  in  the  last  section  w 
made  with  almost  as  much  promptness  as  if  it  were  ne- 
cessarily involved  in  the  sensation  itself.  It  is  at  least  so 
rapid,  that  we  find  ourselves  utterly  unable  to  mark  the 
mind's  progress  from  the  inward  feeling  to  the  concep- 
tion of  the  outward  cause.  Nor  is  this  inability  surpri- 
sing, when  we  consider  that  we  have  repeated  this  pro 
cess,  both  in  this  and  in  analogous  cases,  from  our  earli 
est  childhood.  No  object  has  ever  been  present  to  ml 
capable  of  operating  on  the  senses,  where  this  process  ha.', 
not  been  o-one  throufrh.  The  result  of  this  loncr-contin- 
ued  and  frequent  repetition  has  been  an  astonishing  quick- 
ness in  the  mental  action  ;  so  much  so  that  the  mind  leaps 
outward  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  to  be  present 
with,  and  to  comprehend  the  causes  of  the  feeling  within. 

This  view,  it  will  be  seen,  helps  in  illustrating  the  na- 
ture of  PERCEPTION  as  distinguished  from  sensation,  The 
r.uthnes  of  that  distinction  have  already  been  given  ;  and 
every  one  of  the  senses,  as  well  as  that  now  under  consid- 
eration, will  furnish  proofs  and  illustrations  of  it.  Ac* 
cordingly,  when  we  are  said  to  perceive  the  smell,  or  to 
have  perceptions  of  the  srnell  of  a  body,  the  rapid  pro- 
cess which  has  been  described  is  gone  through,  and  tlit 
three  things  which  w^ere  involved  in  the  definition  of  Per- 
ception, already  given,  are  supposed  to  exist;  (1.)  Thp 
presence  ol  the  odoriferous  bofly  and  the  aflfeetion  of  iti 


34  THE    SENSES    OF    SMELL    AI*D   1 ASTK. 

appropriate  or^rt^i ;  (2.)  The  change  or  sensation  m  th* 
mind;  and,  (3.)  The  reference  of  the  sensation  to  the  ex« 
ternal  body  as  its  cause. 

4  22.  Of  the  sense  and  the  sensations  of  taste 

The  tongue,  which  is  covered  with  numerous  nerA^ous 
papillae,  forms  essentially  the  organ  of  taste,  although 
tlie  papillae  are  found  scattered  in  other  parts  of  the  cavi- 
ty of  the  mouth.  Tlie  application  of  any  sapid  body  to 
this  organ  immediately  causes  in  it  a  change  or  affec- 
tion ;  and  that  is  at  once  followed  by  a  mental  affection 
or  a  new  state  of  the  mind.  In  this  way  we  have  the  sen- 
sations and  perceptions,  to  which  we  give  the  names 
sweet,  bitter,  sour,  acrid,  &c. 

Having  experienced  the  inward  sensation,  the  affections 
of  the  mind  are  then  referred  by  us  to  something  external 
as  their  cause.  We  do  not,  however,  ahvays,  nor  even  gen- 
erally, distinguish  the  qualities  which  constitute  this  causs 
by  separate  and  appropriate  designations;  but  expresi' 
them  by  the  names  that  are  employed  for  the  internal 
feeling,  viz.,  sweetness,  bitterness,  som-ness,  &c.  This 
reference  of  what  is  internally  experienced  to  its  external 
cause  is  very  rapidly  made ;  so  that  we  at  once  say  of 
one  apple  it  is  sweet,  and  of  another  it  is  sour.  Still  it 
■^s  to  be  kept  in  mind,  that,  in  point  of  fact,  it  is  subse- 
quent, both  in  the  order  of  nature  and  of  time,  to  the 
mere  sensation ;  although  we  may  not  be  able,  in  conse- 
quence of  its  rapidity,  to  mark  distinctly  the  progress  of 
the  mental  action  from  the  one  to  the  other.  As  in  the  case 
of  smells,  which  have  already  been  remarked  upon,  the 
reference  is  the  result  of  our  former  experience.  We  say 
of  one.  body  it  is  sweet,  and  of  another  it  is  sour,  be- 
cause we  have  ever  observed  that  the  mental  states  in- 
dicated by  those  terms  have  always  existed  in  connexion 
"vith  the  presence  of  those  bodies. 

Whenever,  therefore,  we  say  of  any  bodies  that  they 
arc  sweet,  bitter,  sour,  or  apply  any  other  epithets  ex- 
)rcss-ive  of  sapid  qualities,  we  mean  to  be  understood  to 
Bay  that  such  bodies  are  fitted,  in  the  constitution  of 
things,  to  3ause  in  the  mind  the  sensations  of  sweetness, 
bitterness,  and  sourness,  or  other  sensations  expressed  h\ 


THE    SENSE    OF    HEARiVG  36 

ilenoiuiiiations  of  taste.     Or,  in  other  words,  that  they 
ajre  the  established  antecedents  of  such  mental  states,  as 
there  is,  further  than  this,  no  necessaiy  connexion  be 
tween  them. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    SENSE    OF    HEARING. 
9  23.  Organ  of  the  sense  of  hearing. 

Following  the  order  which  has  been  proposed,  we  are 
next  to  consider  the  sense  of  hearing.  And,  in  proceed- 
ing to  the  consideration  of  this  subject,  the  remark  is  a 
very  obvious  one,  that  we  should  be  unable  to  hear  if  we 
had  not  a  sense  designed  for,  and  appropriate  to,  that  re- 
sult. The  air,  when  put  strongly  in  motion,  is  distinctly 
perceived  by  the  touch;  but  no  impression  which  it  could 
make  on  that  sense  would  cause  that  internal  feelin» 

.  .  .  ^ 

which  is  termed  a  sensation  of  sound.  Our  Creator, 
^.herefore,  has  taken  care  that  these  sensations  shall  have 
their  own  organ ;  and  it  is  obviously  one  of  precise  and 
elaborate  workmanship. 

The  ear  is  designedly  planted  in  a  position  where, 
with  the  greatest  ease,  it  takes  cognizance  of  whatever  is 
going  on  in  the  contiguous  atmosphere.  When  we  ex- 
amine it  externally,  we  not  only  find  it  thus  favourably 
situated,  but  presenting  a  hollowed  and  capacious  sur 
face,  so  formed  as  to  grasp  and  gather  in  the  undula- 
tions of  air,  continually  floating  and  in  motion  around  it. 
Without,  however,  delaying  to  give  a  minute  description 
of  the  internal  construction  of  the  ear,  which  belongs 
rather  to  the  physiologist,  it  w^ill  answer  our  present  pur- 
pose merely  to  add,  that  these  undulations  are  conducted 
by  it  through  various  windings,  till  they  are  brought  in  a 
state  of  concentration,  as  it  were,  against  the  membrane 
called  the  tympanum.-  '-It  is  worthy  of  notice,  that  on  the 
internal  surface  of  this  membrane  (the  drum,  as  it  is  pop- 
ularly called)  there  is  a  nerve  spread  out  in  a  manner 
analogous  to  Ihe  expansion  of  the  optic  nerve  at  the  hot* 


36  THE    SENSE    OF    HEARMO 

torn  of  the  eye.     Whether  this  nervous  expansion  be  m 
dispensably  necessary  to  the  result  or  not,  it  is  certain 
that  a  pressure  upon  or  affection  of  the  tympanum  by  the 
external  air,  is  followed  by  a  new  state  of  the  mind, 
known  as  the  sensation  or  perception  of  sound. 

^  24.  Varieties  of  the  sensation  of  sound. 

The  sensations  which  we  thus  become  possessed  of  by 
flie  hearing  are  far  more  numerous  than  the  words  and 
the  forms  of  speech,  having  relation  to  them  in  differert 
languages,  would  lead  us  to  suppose.  It  will  help  to  il- 
lustrate this  subject  if  we  recur  a  moment  to  the  sense 
of  TASTE.  The  remark  has  somewhere  been  made  to  this 
effect,  and  probably  with  much  truth,  that  if  a  person 
were  to  examine  five  hundred  different  wines,  he  would 
hardly  find  two  of  them  of  precisely  the  same  flavour. 
The  diversity  is  almost  endless,  although  there  is  no  lan- 
guage which  distinguishes  each  variety  of  taste  by  a  sep- 
arate name.  It  is  the  same  in  respect  to  the  sensations 
of  sound.  These  sensations  exhibit  the  greatest  variety, 
although  their  differences  are  too  minute  to  be  separately 
and  distinctly  represented  by  language. 

These  views  will  appear  the  iess  objectionable  w^hen 
it  is  remembered  that  sounds  differ  from  each  other  both 
in  the  tone  and  in  the  strength  of  the  tone.  It  is  remark- 
ed by  Dr.  Reid,  that  five  hundred  variations  of  tone  may 
be  perceived  by  the  ear,  also  an  equal  number  of  varia- 
tions in  the  strength  of  the  tone;  making,  by  a  combi- 
nation of  the  tones  and  of  the  degrees  of  strength, 
many  thousand  simple  sounds,  differing  either  in  tone 
or  in  strength. 

In  a  perfect  tone,  a  great  many  undulations  of  elastic 
aif  are  required,  which  must  be  of  equal  duration  and 
extent,  and  follow  each  other  wifu  perfect  regularity. 
Each  undulation  is  made  up  of  the  advance  and  retreat 
n(  innumerable  particles,  whose  motions  are  all  uniform 
in  direction,  force,  and  time.  Accordingly,  there  will 
bti  varieties  also  and  shades  of  difference  in  the  same 
tone,  arising  from  the  position  and  manner  of  striking  the 
sonorous  body,  from  the  constitution  of  the  elastic  rnedi 
um,  and  from  the  stdAe  of  the  organ  of  hearing. 


THE    SENSE    OF    HEARING.  37 

Different  instruments,  such  as  a  flute,  a  violin,  and  a 
bass-viol,  may  all  sound  the  same  tone,  and  yet  be  easily 
distinguishable.  A  considerable  number  of  human  voices 
may  sound  the  same  note,  and  with  equal  strength,  and 
yet  there  will  be  some  difference.  The  same  voice, 
while  it  maintams  the  proper  distinctions  of  sound,  may 
ytl  be  varied  many  ways  by  sickness  or  health,  youth  or 
age,  and  other  alterations  in  our  bodily  condition  to 
which  we  are  incident. 

C  25.  Mannei  in  which  we  learn  the  place  of  sounds. 

It  is  a  fact  particularly  worthy  of  notice  in  respect  to 
sounds,  that  we  should  not  know,  previous  to  all  experi- 
ence on  the  subject,  whether  a  sound  came  from  the  right 
or  left,  from  above  or  below,  from  a  smaller  or  greater 
distance.  And  this  will  appear  the  less  surprising  when 
we  remember  that  the  undvdations  of  air  are  always 
changed  from  their  original  direction  by  the  channels  and 
the  windings  of  the  ear  before  they  strike  the  tympanum 
Abundant  facts  confirm  this  statement. 

Dr.  Reid  mentions,  that  once,  as  he  was  lying  in  bed, 
having  been  put  into  a  fright,  he  heard  his  own  heart  beat. 
He  took  it  to  be  some  one  knocking  at  the  door,  and 
arose  and  opened  the  door  oftener  than  once  before  he 
discovered  that  the  sound  was  in  his  own  breast.  Some 
traveller  has  related  that,  when  he  first  heard  the  roaring 
of  a  lion  in  a  desert  wilderness,  not  seeing  the  animal, 
he  did  not  know  on  what  side  to  apprehend  danger,  as 
the  sound  seemed  to  him  to  proceed  from  the  ground,  and 
to  enclose  a  circle,  of  vrhich  he  and  his  companions  stood 
in  the  centre. 

It  is  by  custom  or  experience  that  we  learn  to  distin- 
guish the  place  of  things,  and,  in  some  measure  also,  their 
nature,  by  means  of  their  sound.  It  is  thus  that  we  learn 
that  one  noise  is  in  a  contiguous  room,  that  another  is 
above  our  heads,  and  another  is  in  the  street.  And  what 
seems  to  be  an  evidence  of  this  is,  that  when  we  are  in  a 
strange  place,  after  all  our  experience,  we  very  frequent- 
ly find  ourselves  mistaken  in  these  respects 

If  a  man  born  deaf  were  suddenly  made  to  hear,  iie 
would  probably  consider  his  first  sensations  of  sound  as 


3S  THE    SENSE    OF    TOUCK. 

\ 

originating-  ^vholly  within  himself.  But  in  process  ot 
time  we  Icain  not  only  to  refer  the  origin  of  sounds  to  a 
position  above  or  below,  to  the  right  or  left ;  but  to  con- 
nect each  particular  sovjid  with  a  particular  external 
caiise,  referring  one  to  a  bell  as  its  appropriate  external 
cause,  another  to  a  flute,  another  to  a  trumpets 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    SENSE    OF    TOUCH. 
^  26.   Of  the  sense  of  touch  in  general  and  its  sensations. 

We  are  next  to  consider  the  sense  of  touch.  Tlie 
principal  organ  of  this  sense  is  the  hand,  althoagh  it  is  not 
limited  to  that  part  of  our  frame,  but  is  diffused  over  the 
whole  body.  The  hand  principally  arrests  our  attention 
as  the  organ  of  this  sense,  because,  being  furnished  with 
various  articulations,  it  is  easily  moveable  by  the  muscles, 
and  can  readily  adapt  itself  to  the  various  changes  of 
form  in  the  objects  to  which  it  is  applied. 

The  senses,  which  have  hitherto  been  examined,  are 
more  simple  and  uniform  in  their  results  than  that  of  the 
^ouch.  By  the  ear  we  merely  possess  that  sensation 
which  we  denominate  hearing  ;  we  have  the  knowledge 
of  sounds,  and  that  is  all.  By  the  palate  we  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  tastes,  and  by  the  sense  of  smelling  we 
become  acquainted  with  the  odours  of  bodies.  The 
knowledge  which  is  directly  acquired  by  all  these  senses 
is  limited  to  the  qualities  which  have  been  mentioned 
By  the  sense  of  touch,  on  the  contrary,  we  become  ac- 
quainted not  with  one  merely,  but  with  a  variety  of  quali- 
ties, such  as  the  following,  heat  and  cold,  hardness  and 
soilness,  roughness  and  smoothness,  sohdity  or  resistance, 
extension,  and  figure ;  and,  in  particular,  it  gives  occasion 
foi  the  origin  of  the  antecedent  and  more  general  notion 
sf  externality. 

^  27.  Idea  of  externality  suggested  in  connexion  vith  the  touch. 

If  raan  were  possessed  of  the  sense  of  smell  alone,  it 
would  be  found  that  the  earliest  elements  of  his  kiiowl 


THE    SENSE    OF   TOUCH.  dW 

edge  (ionssted  exclusively  in  sensations  of  odours.  Ac- 
t-ording,  however,  as  these  sensations  were  agreeable  of 
disagree  ab]e,  he  would  acquire  the  additional  ideas  of 
pleasure  and  pain.  And  having  experienced  pleasure 
and  pain,  w^e  may  suppose  that  this  would  subsequently 
give  rise  both  to  the  feelings  and  the  abstract  concep- 
tions of  desire  and  aversion.  But  if  he  had  no  other 
Bcnse,  all  these  feelings  would  seem  to  him  to  be  internal, 
not  only  in  their  experience,  but  their  origin ;  in  other 
■words,  to  be  mere  emanations  from  the  soul  itself;  and 
he  would  be  incapable  of  referring  them  to  an  external 
cause. — If  he  were  possessed  of  the  sense  of  hearing 
alone,  the  result  would  be  similar ;  his  existence  would 
then  seem  to  consist  essentially  of  sounds,  as  in  the  other 
case  it  would  be  made  up  of  odours ;  nor,  indeed,  by  the 
aid  of  merely  both  these  senses  combined  would  he  be 
able  to  form  an  idea  of  externality  or  outwardness. 

But  this  idea  is  a  most  important  one ;  it  is  the  con 
necting  thought  which  introduces  us  to  an  acquaintance 
with  a  new  "form  of  existence,  different  from  that  inte- 
rior existence  which  we  variously  call  by  the  names 
spirit,  mind,  or  soul.  This  idea  first  arises  in  the  mind, 
although  it  is  not  directly  addressed  to  that  sense,  by 
means  of  the  touch. 

There  is  no  question  that  the  other  senses  might  of 
themselves  furnish  a  basis  of  considerable  extent  for  the 
mental  action.  By  means  of  their  aid  alone,  such  a  de- 
velopement  of  the  mind  might  take  place,  that  we  could 
perceive,  think,  compare,  abstract,  reason,  and  wall.  And 
akhough,  under  such  circumstances,  everything  would 
seem  to  us  to  be  internal,  yet  we  should  probably  find 
the  mental  action  unembarrassed  and  easy,  and  a  source 
of  pleasure.  But  after  a  time  we  decide  to  move  the 
lirnbs  in  a  particular  direction,  and  to  press  the  hand  or 
some  other  part  of  the  body  through  some  hard  and  re- 
sisting substance.  It  is  w'hen  we  attempt  to  do  anything 
of  this  kind,  which  calls  the  sense  of  touch  into  action, 
that  we  find  the  wonted  series  of  thoughts  disturbed,  the 
desire  checked,  and  the  volition  counteracted.  It  is 
probably  at  this  precise  position  of  the  mind  with  scarce* 
l^  the  interval  of  a  momentary  pause  oi    R^onder,  that 


10  THE    SENSE   OF    TOL'CH 

there  arises  vividly  in  the  soul  a  new  i)erceptlon,  a  new 
thought,  which  we  call  the  idea  of  externality  or  outnesa 
It  is  the  sense  of  touch  which  impinges  upon  the  obsta- 
.".le  that  stands  in  our  way ;  and  no  other  sense  admita 
of  this  peculiar  application.  It  is  thus  tlie  means  of  par- 
tially disturbing  the  previous  connexion  and  tendency  of 
thoucrht,  and  of  giving  occasion  for  the  rise  of  the  new 
iilea  which  is  under  consideration.  And  this  idea,  called 
int )  existence  under  these  circumstances,  becomes  associ- 
ated with  all  those  notions  which  we  subsequently  form 
of  matter. — It  may  be  of  some  importance  to  add  here, 
tliat  we  shall  have  occasion  to  refer  to  this  idea  again 
under  the  head  of  Intuitional  Suggestion.  It  is  to  bo 
remembered  that  externality  is  not  a  direct  object  of  the 
touch,  as  extension  and  hardness  are,  but  that  the  tactual 
sense  simply  furnishes  the  occasion  on  which  it  is  formed. 

§  28.   Origin  of  the  notion  of  extension,  and  of  form  or  figure. 

The  idea  of  extension  has  its  origin  by  means  of  the 
sense  of  touch.  When  the  touch  is  applied  to  bodies, 
where  in  the  intermediate  parts  there  is  a  continuity  of 
the  same  substance,  we  necessarily  form  that  notion.  It 
is  not,  however,  to  be  imagined  that  Extension,  as  it  ex> 
ists  outwardly,  and  the  corresponding  notion  in  the  mind, 
actually  resemble  each  other.  So  far  from  any  imitation 
and  copying  from  one  to  the  other,  or  resemblance  in  any 
way,  there  Ts  a  radical  and  utter  diversity.  As  to  out- 
ward, material  extension,  it  is  not  necessary  to  attend  to 
it  here ;  our  business  at  present  is  with  the  corresponding 
inward  feeling  Nor  will  it  be  necessary  to  delay  even 
upon  that ;  the  more  we  multiply  words  upon  it,  the  more 
obscure  it  becomes.  As  it  is  a  simple  idea,  we  cannot  re- 
solve it  into  others,  and  in  that  way  make  it  clearer  by 
dsfinino-  it.  We  must  refer  in  this  case,  as  in  others  like 
U,  to  each  one's  personal  experience.  It  will  be  better 
understood  in  that  way  than  by  any  form  of  words. 

The  notion  of  extension  is  intimately  connected  Mith, 
and  may  be  considered  in  some  sort  the  foundation  of, 
that  of  the  form  or  figure  of  bodies. — Dr.  Brown  some- 
where calls  the  Form  of  bodies  their  relation  to  each  othei 
n  spice.     This  is  thought  to  aiTbrd  matter  for  reflectioQJ 


THE    SENSE   OF   TOUCH.  41 

but  \vheii  we  consider  that  space,  whatever  it  may  be  ob- 
jectively or  outwardly,  exists  in  the  mind  as  a  siruple  ro- 
tion,  and  that  the  particular  relation  here  spoken  of  is  iioX 

Eointed  out,  the  remark  may  not  be  found  to  thr*:)w  much 
ght  on  the  subject.  Still  we  do  not  suppose  that  any 
one  is  ignorant  of  what  form  is  ;  men  must  be  supposed 
to  know^  that,  if  they  are  thought  to  know  anything.  All 
that  is  meant  to  be  asserted  here  is,  that  the  idea  of  ex. 
tension  is  antecedent,  in  the  order  of  nature,  to  that  of 
form;  and  that  the  latter  could  not  exist  without  the 
other ;  but  that  both,  nevertheless,  are  simple,  and  both 
are  to  be  ascribed  to  the  sense  of  touch. 

{)  29.   On  the  sensations  of  heat  and  cold. 

Among  the  states  of  mind  which  are  usually  classed 
Tvith  the  intimations  of  the  sense  under  consideration,  are 
t-hose  which  are  connected  wdth  changes  in  the  tempera- 
ture of  our  bodies.  Some  writers,  it  is  true,  have  been 
inclined  to  dissent  from  this  arrangement,  and  have  haz- 
arded an  opinion  that  they  ought  not  to  be  ascribed  to 
the  sense  of  touch  ;  but  Dr.  Reid,  on  the  contrary,  who 
gave  to  our  sensations  the  most  careful  and  patient  atten- 
tion, has  decidedly  assigned  to  them  this  origin.  Among 
other  remarks,  he  has  expressed  himself  on  this  subject  to 
this  effect. 

'•  The  words  heat  and  gold,"  he  remarks,  (Inquiry  into 
the  Human  Mind,  ch.  v.,)  "  have  each  of  them  tw^o  signi- 
fications ;  they  sometimes  signify  certain  sensations  of  the 
mind,  whicli  can  have  no  existence  when  they  are  not 
felt,  nor  can  exist  anywhere  but  in  the  mind  or  sentient 
being  ;  but  more  frequently  they  signify  a  quality  in  bod- 
ieSj  which,  by  the  laws  of  nature,  occasions  the  sensations 
of  heat  and  cold  in  us;  a  quality  which,  though  con- 
nected by  custom  so  closely  with  the  sensation  that  we 
cannot  without  difficulty  separate  them,  yet  hath  not 
tlie  least  resemblance  to  it,  and  may  continue  to  exist 
when  there  is  no  sensation  at  all. 

"  The  sensations  of  heat  and  cold  are  perfectly  known, 

for  they  neither  are,  nor  can  be,  anything  else  than  wiiat 

we  feel  them  to  be ;  but  the  qualities  in  bodies,  which  we 

call  keat  and  cold,  are  unknowTi.    They  are  only  conceiv 

D2 


42  rHE   SI,NSE    OF    TOUCH. 

«d  by  us  ii&  mkiDwn  causes  or  occasions  of  the  sensations, 
to  which  we  give  the  same  names.  But  though  common 
sense  says  nothing  of  the  nature  of  the  quahtics,  it  plainly 
indicates  the  existence  of  them ;  and  to  deny  that  there 
can  be  heat  and  cold  when  they  are  not  felt,  is  an  ab- 
surdity too  gross  to  merit  confutation.  For  what  could 
be  more  absurd  than  to  say  that  the  thermometer  cannot 
ri*e  or  fall  unless  some  person  be  present,  or  that  the  coast 
of  Guinea  would  be  as  3old  as  Nova  Zembla  if  it  had  no 
inhabitants. 

"  It  is  the  business  of  philosophers  to  investigate,  by 
proper  experiments  and  induction,  what  heat  and  cold 
are  in  bodies.  And  whether  they  make  heat  a  particular 
element  diffused  through  nature,  and  accumulated  in  the 
heated  body,  or  whether  they  make  it  a  certain  vibration 
of  the  parts  of  the  heated  body ;  whether  they  determine 
that  heat  and  cold  are  contrary  qualities,  as  the  sensations 
undoubtedly  are  contrary,  or  that  heat  only  is  a  quality, 
and  cold  its  privation ;  these  questions  are  within  the 
province  of  philosophy ;  for  common  sense  says  nothing 
on  the  one  side  or  the  other. 

"  But,  whatever  be  the  nature  of  that  quality  in  bodies 
which  we  call  heat,  we  certainly  know  this,  that  it  can- 
not in  the  least  resemble  the  sensation  of  heat.'  It  is  no 
less  absurd  to  suppose  a  likeness  between  the  sensation 
and  the  quality,  than  it  would  be  to  suppose  that  the 
pain  of  the  gout  resembles  a  square  or  a  triangle.  The 
simplest  man  that  hath  common  sense  does  not  imagine 
the  sensation  of  heat,  or  anything  that  resembles  that 
gensation,  to  be  in  the  fire.  He  only  imagines  that  there 
is  something  in  the  fire  w^hich  makes  him  and  other  sen- 
tient beings  feel  heat.  Yet  as  the  name  of  heat,  in  com- 
mon language,  more  frequently  and  more  properly  signi- 
fies this  unknown  something  in  the  fire  than  the  sensa- 
tion occasioned  by  it,  he  justly  laughs  at  the  philosopher 
v;ho  denies  that  there  is  any  heat  in  the  fire,  and  thinks 
that  he  speaks  contrary  to  common  sense." 

^  30.   Of  the  sensatior.s  of  hardness  and  softness. 

'-'Let  us  next  consider,"  continues  the  same  writer, 
"  HARDNH&s  and  softness;  by  which  words  we  alwavv 


TIIB    SKNSE    OF    IsrirjCK.  43 

uiid'^Tstand  real  properties  or  qualities  of  boLlles,  of  which 
Hie  liave  a  distinct  conception. 

"  Whon  the  parts  of  a  boJy  adhere  so  firmly  that  it 
c?<nnot  easily  be  made  to  change  its  figure,  we  call 
t  hard  ;  when  its  parts  are  easily  displaced,  we  call  it 
so/t.  This  is  the  notion  which  all  mankind  have  of  hard- 
ness Olid  softness  :  they  are  neither  sensations  nor  like 
any  c-ensation  ;  they  were  real  qualities  before  they  were 
perceived  by  touch,  and  continue  to  be  so  when  they  are 
not  perceived  :  for  if  any  man  will  affirm  that  diamonds 
were  not  hard  till  they  were  handled,  who  would  reason 
with  him  '( 

"  There  is,  no  doubt,  a  sensation  by  which  we  perceive. 
d  body  to  be  hard  or  soft.  This  sensation  of  hardness  may 
easily  be  had  by  pressing  one's  hand  against  a  table,  and 
attending  to  the  feeling  that  ensues,  setting  aside  as  much 
as  possible  all  thought  of  the  table  and  its  qualities,  or  of 
any  external  thing.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  have  the  sen- 
sation, and  another  to  attend  to  it  and  make  it  a  distinct 
object  of  reflection.  The  first  is  very  easy ;  the  last,  in 
most  cases,  extremely  difficult. 

"  We  are  so  accustomed  to  use  the  sensation  as  a  sign, 
and  to  pass  immediately  to  the  hardness  signified,  that,  as 
far  as  appears,  it  was  never  made  an  object  of  thought, 
either  by  the  vulgar  or  by  philosophers;  nor  has  it  a 
name  in  any  language.  There  is  no  sensation  more  dis- 
tinct or  more  frequent ;  yet  it  is  never  attended  to,  but 
passes  through  the  mind  instantaneously,  and  serves  only 
to  introduce  that  quality  in  bodies  which,  by  a  law  of  our 
constitution,  it  suggests. 

"  There  are,  indeed,  some  cases  wherein  it  is  no  difficult 
matter  to  attend  to  the  sensation  occasioned  by  the  hard- 
ness of  a  body  ;  for  instance,  when  it  is  so  violent  as  to 
:)ccasion  considerable  pain  :  then  nature  calls  upon  us  to 
attend  to  it ;  and  then  we  acknowledge  that  it  is  a  mere 
sensation,  and  can  only  be  in  a  sentient  being.  If  a  man 
runs  his  head  with  violence  against  a  pillar,  I  appeal  to 
him  whether  the  pain  he  feels,  resembles  the  hardness  of 
the  stone ;  or  if  he  can  conceive  anything  like  what  hr 
feels  to  be  in  an  inanimate  piece  of  matter. 

"The  attention  of  tb^  mind  is  here  entirely  turned  to- 


14  THE   SKNSK   OF    TOUCH 

wards  the  painful  feeling ;  aiid,  to  speak  in  the  commoii 
language  of  mankind,  he  feels  nothing  in  the  stone,  but 
feels  a  violent  pain  in  his  head.  It  is  quite  otherwise 
when  he  leans  his  head  gently  against  the  pillar ;  for  then 
he  will  tell  you  that  he  I'eels  notliing  in  liis  head,  but  feela 
hardness  in  the  stone-  Hath  he  not  a  sensation  in  this 
case  as  well  as  in  the  other  1  Undoubtedly  he  hath ; 
but  it  is  a  sensation  which  nature  intended  only  as  a  sign 
of  something  in  the  stone ;  and,  accordingly,  he  instant- 
jy  fixes  his  attention  upon  the  thing  signified ;  and  can- 
nut,  without  great  difficulty,  attend  so  much  to  the  sen- 
sation as  to  be  persuaded  that  there  is  any  such  thing 
distinct  from  the  hardness  it  signifies. 

"  But  however  difficult  it  may  be  to  attend  to  this  fugi- 
tive sensation,  to  stop  its  rapid  progress,  and  to  disjoin  it 
from  the  external  quality  of  hardness,  in  whose  shadow 
it  is  apt  immediately  to  hide  itself:  this  is  what  a  philos- 
opher by  pains  and  practice  must  attain,  otherwise  it 
will  be  impossible  for  him  to  reason  justly  upon  this  sub- 
ject, or  even  to  understand  what  is  here  advanced.  Foi 
the  last  appeal,  in  subjects  of  this  nature,  must  be  to  what 
a  man  feels  and  perceives  in  his  own  mind." 

^31.   Of  certain  indefinite  feelings  soracfinics  ascribed  to  the  touch 

In  connexion  with  these  views  on  the  sensations  of 
touch,  it  is  proper  to  remark,  that  certain  feelings  have 
been  ascribed  to  that  sense,  which  are  probably  of  a  char- 
acter too  indefinite  to  admit  of  a  positive  and  undoubted 
classification.  Although  they  clearly  have  their  place  in 
the  general  arrangement  which  has  been  laid  down,  with 
the  states  of  mind  which  we  are  now  considering ;  that 
is  to  say,  are  rather  of  an  external  and  material,  than  of 
an  internal  origin  ;  still  they  do  not  so  evidently  admit  of 
an  assignment  to  a  particular  sense.  Those  sensations  *a 
which  we  now  refer,  ( if  it  be  proper  to  use  that  term  m 
application  to  them,)  appear  to  have  their  origin  in  the 
human  system  considered  as  a  whole,  made  up  of  bones, 
flesh,  muscles,  the  senses,  &c.,  rather  than  to  be  suscep- 
tible of  being  traced  to  any  particular  part.  Of  this  de- 
scription are  the  feelings  expressed  by  the  terms  uneasi- 
ness, weariness,  wealciiess,  sickness,  and  those  of  an  op» 
posite  character,  as  ease,  iularity,  health,  vigour,  &c 


■n.E   SENSE   OF  TOUCH.  45 

Similar  views  will  be  found  to  apply,  in  part  at  leitstj 
60  the  sensations  which  we  express  by  the  terms  hunger 
and  THIRST.  These  appear  to  be  complex  iu  their  nature, 
including  a  feeling  of  uneasiness,  combined  with  a  desire 
to  relieve  that  uneasiness.  When  we  say  that  these  views 
will  apply  in  part  to  hunger  and  thirst,  the  design  is  to 
iimit  the  application  of  them  to  the  element  oi'  uneasi- 
ness. This  elementary  feeling  undoubtedly  has  its  origin 
ill  the  bodily  system,  and  therefore  comes  in  this  case 
under  the  general  class  of  notions  of  an  external  origin ; 
ttut  still  it  is  not  easy  to  say  that  it  should  be  arranged 
with  our  tactual  feehngs,  which  has  sometimes  been  done. 
Every  one  must  be  conscious,  it  is  thought,  that  the  feel- 
ing of  hunger  does  not  greatly  resemble  the  sensations  of 
hardness  and  softnc^ss,  roughness  or  smoothness,  or  other 
sensations  which  are  usually  ascribed  to  the  touch. — 
The  cause  of  that  peculiar  state  of  the  nerves  of  the  stom- 
ach, which  is  antecedent  to  the  uneasy  feeling  involved 
in  what  is  termed  hunger,  has  been  a  subject  of  differ- 
ence of  opinion,  and  does  not  appear  to  be  well  under- 
stood. If  we  were  fully  acquainted  w^ith  this  we  might 
perhaps  be  less  at  a  loss  ^vhcre  to  arrange  the  feeling  in 
•question^ 

4  33.   Relation  lietwecri  the  sensation  and  what  is  outwardly  signified. 

We  here  return  a  moment  to  the  subject  of  the  relation 
between  the  internal  sensation  and  the  outward  object  j 
wid  again  repeat,  that  the  mental  state  and  the  corre- 
sponding outward  object  are  altogether  diverse.  This 
view  holds  good  in  the  case  of  the  secondary,  as  well  a'. 
€f  the  primary  qualities  of  matter.  Whether  we  speak  of 
extension,  or  resistance,  or  heat,  or  colour,  or  roughness, 
there  are,  in  all  cases  alike,  two  things,  the  internal  affec- 
tion and  the  outward  quality ;  but  they  are  utterly  distinct, 
totally  without  likeness  to  each  other.  But  how  it  happens 
that  one  thing  which  is  totally  different  from  another  can 
nevertheless  give  us  a  knowledge  of  that  from  which  it 
differs,  it  would  be  a  waste  of  time  to  attempt  to  explain. 
Our  knowdedge  is  undoubtedly  limited  to  the  mere  fact. 

This  is  one  those  of  difficult  but  decisive  points  in 
mentai  philosophy,  of  which  '    '•{>  esseulial  to  possess  a 


46  THE   SENSE    OF   SlilFf 

precise  and  correct  understanding.  The  letters  whicli 
cover  over  the  page  of  a  book  are  a  very  dilFerenl  thing 
from  the  thouoht  and  the  combinations  of  thous:ht  "wliich 
they  stand  for.  The  accountant's  columns  of  numerals  are 
not  identical  with  the  quantities  and  tlieir  relations  which 
they  represent.  And  so  in  regard  to  the  mind ;  all  its 
acts  are  of  one  kind,  and  what  they  stand  for  is  of  an- 
other. The  mind,  in  all  its  feelings  and  operations,  is 
governed  by  its  own  laws,  and  characterizes  its  efforts  by 
the  essential  elements  of  its  own  nature.  Nothing  which 
is  seen  or  heard,  nothing  which  is  the  subject  of  taste,  or 
touch  or  any  other  sense,  nothing  material,  which  can  be 
imagined  to  exist  in  any  place  or  in  any  form,  can  furnish 
the  least  positive  disclosure  either  of  its  intrinsic  nature 
or  of  the  mode  of  its  action. 

What,  then,  is  the  relation  between  the  sensation  and 
the  outward  object,  between  the  perception  and  the  thing 
perceived  ?  Evidently  that  of  the  sign  and  the  thing  sig- 
nified. And  as,  in  a  multitude  of  cases,  the  sign  may 
give  a  knowledge  of  its  objects  without  any  other  grounds 
of  such  knowledge  than  mere  institution  or  appointment, 
so  it  is  in  this.  The  mind,  maintaining  its  appropriate 
action,  and  utterly  rejecting  the  intervention  of  all  images 
and  visible  representations,  except  what  are  outward  and 
material,  and  totally  distinct  from  itself  both  in  place  and 
nature,  is,  notwithstanding,  susceptible  of  the  knowledge 
of  things  exterior,  and  can  form  an  acquaintance  with  the 
universe  of  matter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    SENSE    OF    SIGHT. 


(f  33.  Of  the  organ  of  sight,  and  the  uses  or  benefiis  of  that  sense. 

Of  those  instruments  of  external  perception  with  which 
a  benevolent  Providence  has  favoured  us,  a  high  rank 
must  be  given  to  the  sense  of  seeing.  If  we  were  re- 
st ricted  in  the  process  of  acquiring  knowledge  to  the  in- 
formations of  the  touch  merely,  how  many  embaj  rassmenls 


THE    SENSE    OF    SIGHT  41 

would  attend  our  progress,  and  how  slow  it  would  prove! 
Having  never  possessed  sight,  it  would  be  many  years 
before  the  most  acute  and  active  person  could  form  an 
idea  of  a  mountain  or  even  of  a  large  edifice.  But  by 
the  additional  help  of  the  sense  of  seeing,  he  not  only 
observes  the  figure  of  large  buildings,  but  is  in  a  momeni 
possessed  of  all  the  beauties  of  a  wide  and  variegated 
landscape.  ' 

The  organ  of  this  sense  is  the  eye.  On  a  slight  ex- 
amination, the  eye  is  found  to  be  a  sort  of  telescope,  hav  • 
ing  its  distinct  parts,  and  discovering  throughout  the  most 
exquisite  construction.  The  medium  on  whicli  this  organ 
acts  are  rays  of  light,  eveiywhere  diffused,  and  always 
advancing,  if  they  meet  with  no  opposition,  in  direct 
lines.  The  eye,  like  all  the  other  senses,  not  only  receive^, 
externally  the  medium  on  which  it  acts,  but  carries  the 
rays  of  light  into  itself ;  and  on  principles  purely  scien- 
tific, refracts  and  combines  them  anew. 

It  does  not,  however,  fall  within  our  plan  to  give  a  mi- 
uute  description  of  the  eye,  which  belongs  rather  to  the 
physiologist ;  but  such  a  description,  with  the  statement 
of  the  uses  of  the  different  parts  of  the  organ,  must  be,  to 
a  candid  and  reflecting  mind,  a  most  powerful  argument 
in  proof  of  the  existence  and  goodness  of  the  Supreme 
Being.  How  wonderful,  among  other  things,  is  the 
adaptation  of  the  rays  of  light  to  the  eye  !  If  these  rays 
were  not  of  a  texture  extremely  small,  they  would  cause 
much  pain  to  the  organ  of  vision,  into  which  they  so 
rapidly  pass.  If  they  were  not  capable  of  exciting 
wirthin  us  the  sensations  of  colour,  we  should  be  deprived 
of  much  of  that  high  satisfaction  which  we  now  take  in 
beholding  surrounding  objects ;  sho\ving  forth,  wherever 
they  are  to  be  found,  the  greatest  variety'  and  the  utmost 
richness  of  tints. 

^  34.  Statement  of  che  mode  or  process  m  visual  perception. 

In  the  process  of  vision,  the  rays  of  light,  coming  from 
various  objects  and  in  various  directions,  strike  in  the  fust 
place  on  the  pelhnid  or  transparent  part  of  the  ball  ot 
ihe  eye. 

IT  they  were  to  continue  passing  ^xi  preci:-:ely  in  th« 


48  TIIE    SENSE   OF    SIGHT. 

same  direction,  they  would  produce  merely  one  mingleiU 
and  indistinct  expanse  of  colour.  In  their  progress,  how- 
ever, through  the  crystalline  humour,  they  are  refracted 
or  bent  from  their  former  direction,  and  are  distributed  to 
certain  focal  points  on  the  retina,  which  is  a  white,  fibrous 
expansion  of  the  optic  nerve. 

The  rays  of  light,  coming  from  objects  in  the  field  of 
rlsion,  whether  it  be  more  or  less  extensive,  as  soon  as 
they  have  been  distributed  on  their  distinct  portions  of  the 
retina,  and  have  formed  an  image  there,  are  immediately 
followed  by  the  sensation  or  perception  w^hich  is  termed 
sight.  The  image  which  is  thus  pictured  on  the  retina 
is  the  last  step  which  we  are  able  to  designate  m  the  ma- 
terial part  of  the  process  in  visual  perception  ;  the  men- 
tal state  follows ;  but  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  trace,  even 
in  the  smallest  degree,  any  physical  connexion  between 
the  optical  image  and  the  corresponding  state  of  the 
mind. — All  that  we  can  say  in  this  case  is,  that  we  sup- 
pose them  to  hold  to  each  other  the  relation  of  antecedent 
and  consequent  by  an  uUiraate  lav/  of  our  constitution. 

^  35.  Of  Ihe  original  and  acquired  perceptions  of  sight. 

In  speaking  of  those  sensations  and  perceptions,  th^ 
origin  of  which  is  generally  attributed  to  the  sens*',  ot 
siglit,  it  is  necessary  to  make  a  distinction  between  those 
which  are  original  and  those  which  are  acquired.  No- 
thing is  properly  original  with  the  sense  of  sight  but  th« 
sensations  of  colour,  such  as  red,  blue,  yellow.  These 
sensations  (or  perceptions,  as  they  are  otherwise  called, 
when  the  internal  feeling  is  combined  with  a  reference  to 
the  external  cause)  are  exceedingly  numerous.  In  this 
respect,  the  intimations  of  the  sense  of  sight  stand  on  the 
game  footing  wdth  those  of  taste  and  hearing ;  although 
distinctive  names,  in  consequence  of  the  difficulty  of  ac- 
curately separating  and  drawing  the  line  between  each, 
are  given  oiily  in  a  few  cases.  All  the  sensations  of 
colour  are  original  with  the  sight,  and  are  not  to  be  as« 
fnbed  to  any  other  sense. 

A  part,  however,  of  that  knowledge,  which  wo  attrib* 
uie  to  the  sight,  and  whi^h  has  the  appearance  of  bein^ 
inincdiate  and  original  in  that  sense,  is  not  so.     Some  o( 


THE    SENSE  OF    SIGHT.  4i) 

Its  alleged  perceptions  are  properly  the  results  of  sensa- 
tions, combined  not  only  with  the  usual  reference  to  an 
external  cause,  but  ^^^th  various  other  acts  of  the  judg- 
ment. In  some  cases  the  combination  of  the  acts  of  the 
judgment  with  the  visual  sensation  is  carried  so  far,  that 
there  is  a  sort  of  transfer  to  the  sight  of  the  knowledge 
which  has  been  obtained  from  som.e  other  source.  And 
not  unfrequentlv,  in  consequence  of  u  long  and  tenacious 
association,  we  are  apt  to  look  upon  the  knowledge  thus 
acquired  as  truly  original  in  the  seeing  power.  Tliis  will 
suffice,  perhaps,  as  a  statement  of  the  general  fact,  whiie 
the  brief  examination  of  a  few  instance-  will  help  to  the 
more  thorough  understanding  of  those  acquired  percep- 
tions of  the  sight  which  are  here  referred  to. 

4  36.  The  idea  of  extension  not  originally  from  sight. 

It  is  well  known  that  there  is  nothing  more  common 
than  for  a  person  to  say,  that  he  sees  the  length  or  breadth 
of  any  external  object ;  that  he  sees  its  extent,  &c.  These 
expressions  appear  to  imply  (and  undoubtedly  are  so  un- 
derstood) that  extension  is  a  direct  object  of  sight.  There 
is  no  question  that  such  is  the  common  sentiment,  viz., 
that  the  outlines  and  surface  which  bodies  permanently 
expand  and  present  to  the  view,  are  truly  seen.  An 
opinion  different  from  this  might  even  incur  the  charge 
of  great  absurdity. 

But,  properly,  the  notion  of  extension,  as  we  have  al- 
ready seen,  has  its  origin  in  the  sense  of  touch.  Being  a 
simple  and  elementary  thought,  it  is  not  susceptible  of 
definition ;  nor,  when  we  consider  extension  as  existing 
outwardly  and  materially,  can  we  make  it  a  matter  of 
description  without  running  into  the  confusion  of  using 
synonymous  words.  But,  whatever  it  is,  (and  certainly 
there  can  be  neither  ignorance  nor  disagreement  on  that 
point,  however  much  language  may  fail  of  conveying  our 
ideas,)  the  knowledge  of  it  is  not  to  be  ascribed  original- 
ly to  the  sight. 

The  notion  of  extension  is  closely  connected  with  ex- 
ternality. It  is  not  possible  to  form  the  idea  of  extension 
from  mere  consciousness,  or  a  reflection  on  what  takes 
place  within  us.     But  making  a  muscular  effort,  and  llui*. 

E 


&<)  THE    SENSE    OF    SIGh   . 

npplying  the  touch  to  some  resisting  body,  we  first  have 
the  notion  of  outness  ;  and  either  from  the  same  apphca- 
tion  of  that  sense,  or  Avhen  we  have  repeated  it  continu- 
ously on  the  same  surface,  we  have  the  additional  notion 
uf  its  being  extended  or  spread  out.  If  a  man  weru 
fixed  immoveably  in  one  place,  capable  of  smelling,  tast- 
inc:,  hearing,  and  seeing,  but  without  tactual  impressions 
originating  from  a  resisting  body,  he  would  never  possess 
a  knowledge  of  either.  Having  first  gained  that  knowl- 
edge from  the  touch  in  the  way  just  mentioned,  he  learns 
in  time  what  appearance  extended  bodies  (which  are,  of 
course,  coloured  bodies)  make  to  the  eye.  At  a  very 
early  period,  having  ascertained  that  all  coloiu-ed  bodies 
are  spread  out  or  extended,  he  invariably  associates  the 
idea  of  extension  with  that  coloured  appearance.  Hence 
he  virtually  and  practically  transfers  the  knowledge  ob- 
tained by  one  sense  to  another ;  and  even  after  a  time 
imagines  extension  to  be  a  direct  object  of  sight,  when, 
in  fact,  what  is  seen  is  only  a  sign  of  it,  and  merely  sug- 
gests it.  An  affection  of  the  sense  of  touch  is  the  true 
and  original  occasion  of  the  origin  of  this  notion ;  and  it 
becomes  an  idea  of  sight  only  by  acquisition  or  transfer- 
ence, 

1^  37.   Of  the  knowledge  of  the  figure  of  bodies  by  the  sight. 

Views  similar  to  those  which  have  been  already  ad- 
vanced will  evidently  apply  to  the  figure  of  bodies.  Re- 
acquire a  knowledge  of  the  figure  or  form  of  bodies, 
originally  by  the  sense  of  touch.  But  it  cannot  be  doubt- 
ed that  this  knowledge  is  often  confidently  attributed  to 
the  sense  of  sight  as  well  as  the  touch.  Although  there 
is  reason  to  believe  that  men  labour  under  a  mistake  in 
this,  it  is  not  strange,  when  we  trace  back  our  mental 
history  to  its  earlier  periods,  that  such  a  misapprehenyion 
should  exist. 

A  solid  body  presents  to  the  eye  nothing  but  a  certain 
disposition  of  colours  and  light.  We  may  imagine  our- 
selves to  see  the  prominences  or  cavities  in  such  bodies, 
when  in  truth  we  only  see  the  light  or  the  shade  occa- 
sioned by  them.  This  light  and  shade,  however,  wc 
learn  by  experience  to  consider  as  the  sign  of  g  certai»! 


THE    SENSE    OF    SIGHT.  51 

feolid  figure.— A  proof  of  Uie  truth  ol  this  statement  is, 
tliat  a  painter,  by  carefully  imitating  the  distribution  of 
Hglit  and  shade  which  he  sees  in  objects,  will  make  hia 
work  very  naturally  and  exactly  represent,  not  only  the 
general  outline  of  a  body,  but  its  prominences,  depres- 
sions, and  other  irregularities.  And  yet  his  delineation, 
which,  by  the  distribution  of  hght  and  shade,  gives  such 
various  representations,  is  on  a  smooth  and  plain  surface 

§  38.  Illustration  of  the  subject  from  the  blind. 

It  was  a  problem  submitted  by  Mr.  Molyneux  to  Mr. 
Locke,  whether  a  blind  man,  who  has  learned  the  differ- 
ence between  a  cube  and  a  sphere  by  the  touch,  can,  on 
being  suddenly  restored  to  sight,  distinguish  between 
them,  and  tell  which  is  the  sphere  and  which  is  the  cube, 
by  the  aid  of  what  may  be  called  his  new  sense  merely  1 
And  the  answer  of  Mr.  Locke  was,  in  agreement  with  the 
opinion  of  Molyneux  himself,  that  he  cannot.  The  blind 
man  knows  what  impressions  the  cube  and  sphere  make 
on  the  organ  of  touch,  and  by  that  sense  is  able  to  di* 
linguish  between  them ;  but,  as  he  is  ignorant  what  im^ 
pression  they  will  make  on  the  organ  of  sight,  he  is  not 
able,  by  the  latter  sense  alone,  to  tell  which  is  the  round 
body  and  which  is  the  cubic. 

It  was  remarked  that  solid  bodies  present  to  the  eye 
nothing  but  a  certain  disposition  of  light  and  colours. — It 
seems  to  follow  from  this,  that  the  first  idea  which  will  be 
conveyed  to  the  mind  on  seeing  a  globe,  will  be  that  of 
a  circle  variously  shadowed  with  different  degrees  of 
light.  This  imperfect  idea  is  corrected  in  this  way. 
Combining  the  suggestions  of  the  sense  of  touch  with 
those  of  sight,  we  learn  by  greater  experience  what  kind 
of  appearance  solid,  convex  bodies  will  make  to  us.  That 
appearance  becomes  to  the  mind  the  sign  of  the  presence 
ot  a  globe ;  so  that  we  have  an  idea  of  a  round  body  by 
a  very  rapid  mental  correction,  whereas  the  notion  first 
conveyed  to  the  mind  is  truly  that  of  a  plane,  circular 
surface,  on  which  there  is  a  variety  in  the  dispositions  ol 
light  and  shade.  It  is  an  evidence  of  the  correctness  of 
this  statement,  that  in  paintings,  plane  surfaces,  variously 
shaded,  represent  convex  bodies,  and  with  great  tru^r  and 
rxactness. 


02  THE    SENaE    O?    SloIIT. 

It  appear  5,  then,  that  extension  and  figure  are  original^ 
perceived,  not  by  sight,  but  by  touch.  We  do  not  judge 
of  them  by  sight  until  we  have  learned  by  our  (;xperi 
ence  that  certain  visible  appearances  always  accompany 
and  signify  the  existence  of  extension  and  of  figure.  Thia 
knowledge  we  acquire  at  a  very  early  period  in  life ;  so 
*.iiuch  so,  that  we  lose,  in  a  great  measure,  the  memory 
both  of  its  comm.encement  and  progress. 

^  39.  Measurements  of  magnitude  by  the  eve. 

What  has  been  said  naturally  leads  us  to  the  consid- 
eration of  MAGNITUDE.  This  is  a  general  term  for  Exten- 
tiion,  when  we  conceive  of  it  not  only  as  limited  or  bound- 
ed, but  as  related  to,  and  compared  with,  other  objects. 
Although  we  make  use  of  the  eye  in  judging  of  it,  it  is  to 
be  kept  in  mind  that  the  knowledge  of  magnitude  is  not 
an  original  intimation  of  the  sight,  but  is  at  first  acquired 
by  the  aid  of  touch.  So  well  known  is  this,  that  it  has 
been  common  to  consider  Magnitude  under  the  two  heatls 
of  tangible  or  real,  and  visible  or  apparent;  the  tangible 
magnitude  being  always  the  same,  but  the  visible  varying 
with  the  distance  of  the  object.  A  man  of  six  feet  stature 
is  always  that  height,  whether  he  be  a  mile  distant,  or 
half  a  mile,  or  near  at  hand  ;  the  change  of  place  making 
no  change  in  his  real  or  tangible  magnitude.  But  the 
visible  or  apparent  magnitude  of  this  man  may  be  six  feet 
or  two  feet,  as  we  view  him  present  with  us  and  immedi- 
ately in  our  neighbourhood,  or  at  two  miles'  distance ;  for 
his  magnitude  appears  to  our  eye  greater  or  less,  accord- 
ing: as  he  is  more  or  less  removed. 

In  support  of  the  doctrine  that  the  knowledge  of  mag- 
nitude is  not  an  original  inlimatibn  of  the  sight,  but  is  at 
first  acquired  by  the  aid  of  touch,  v/e  may  remark,  that, 
in  judging  of  magnitude  by  the  sight,  we  are  much  influ- 
enced, not  merely  by  the  visual  perception,  but  particu- 
larly by  comparison  with  other  objects,  the  size  of  which 
is  laiown  or  supposed  to  be  known.  "  I  remember  once," 
says  Dr.  Abercrombie  (Intellectual  Powers,  pt.  ii.,  sect,  i.), 
"  having  occasion  to  pass  along  Ludgate  Hill  when  the 
great  door  of  St.  Paul's  was  open,  and  several  persons 
were  standing  in  it.     They  appeared  lo  be  very  little 


THE    SENSE    OF    SIGHT  53 

children  ;  but,  on  coming  up  to  them,  weie  found  to  be 
full-gro\vn  persons.  In  the  mental  process  wliii'h  liere 
took  place,  the  door  had  been  assumed  as  a  known  mag- 
nitude, and  the  other  objects  judged  of  by  it.  Had  I  at 
tended  to  the  door  being  much  larger  than,  any  door  tiia 
one  is  in  the  habit  of  seeing,  the  mind  would  have  madf 
al'owance  for  the  apparent  size  of  the  persons ;  and,  en 
the  other  hand,  had  these  been  known  to  be  full-grown 
persons,  a  judgment  would  have  been  formed  of  the  size 
of  the  door." 

^  40.  Of  objects  seen  in  a  mist. 

In  accordance  with  the  above-mentioned  principle,  it 
happens  that  objects  seen  by  a  person  in  a  mist  seeni 
larger  than  life.  Their  faint  appearance  rapidly  conveys 
to  the  mind  the  idea  of  being  considerably  removed,  al- 
though they  are  actually  near  to  us.  And  the  mind  im- 
mediately draws  the  conclusion,  (so  rapidly  as  to  seem  a 
simple  and  original  perception,)  that  the  object  having 
the  same  visible  or  apparent  magnitude,  and  yet  supposed 
to  be  at  a  considerable  distance,  is  greater  than  other  ob- 
jects of  the  same  class.  So  that  it  is  chiefly  the  view  of 
the  mind,  a  law  or  habit  of  the  intellect,  wdiich,  in  this 
particular  case,  gives  a  fictitious  expansion  to  bodies  ; 
although  it  is  possible  that  the  result  may  in  pavl  be  at- 
tributed to  a  difference  in  the  refraction  of  the  rays  of 
light,  caused  by  their  passing  through  a  denser  and  less 
uniform  medium  than  usual. 

<J  41.  Of  the  sun  and  moon  when  seen  in  the  horizon. 

These  remarlis  natmally  remind  us  of  the  we'd-known 
fact,  that  the  sun  and  moon  seem  larger  in  the  horizon 
than  in  the  meridian.  Three  reasons  may  be  given  for  this 
appearance ;  and  perha})s  ordinarily  they  are  combined 
together. — (1.)  The  horizon  may  seem  more  distant  thai, 
the  zenith,  in  consequence  5f  intervening  objects.  We 
measure  the  distance  of  objects  in  part  by  means  of  those 
that  are  scattered  along  between,  and  any  expanse:  of 
surface,  where  there  are  no  su.ch  intervening  objects,  ap- 
pears to  us  of  less  extent  than  it  actuary  is.  Now  u  the 
rays  of  lic'ht  form  precisely  the  same  imagxj  in  the  eyr!, 
E2 


54  THE   SENSE   OF   SIGHT. 

but  tlie  source  of  them  is  supposed  to  be  furtlitr  otf  in  the 
horizon  than  in  the  zenith,  such  have  been  our  mental 
habits,  that  the  object  in  the  horizon  will  probably  appear 
the  largest. — (2.)  Another  reason  of  the  enlarged  ap- 
pearance of  the  sun  and  moon  in  the  horizon  is,  that  the 
rays  from  them  fall  on  the  body  of  the  atmosphere  ob- 
hquely,  and,  of  course,  are  reflected  downward  towards 
the  beholder,  and  subtend  a  larger  angle  at  his  eye. 
Hence,  as  we  always  see  objects  in  the  direction  of  the 
ray  just  before  it  enters  the  eye,  if  we  follow  the  rays 
back  jn  the  precise  direction  of  their  aj)proach,  they  will 
present  to  the  eye  the  outlines  of  a  larger  object  as  their 
source  than  they  would  if  they  had  not  been  refracted  -  - 
Also,  when  the  atmosphere  is  not  clear,  but  masses  of  va- 
pour exist  in  it,  the  refraction  is  increased  and  the  object 
proportionally  enlarged. — (3.)  The  sun  and  moon  ap- 
pear enlarged  when  other  objects  of  considerable  dimen- 
sions, but  so  distant  as  to  subtend  a  very  small  ajigle  at 
the  eye,  are  seen  in  the  same  direction  or  in  the  moment 
<»{  passing  their  disk,  such  as  distant  trees  in  the  hori- 
zon, or  ships  far  off  at  sea.  These  objects,  though  small 
in  the  eye  or  in  their  visual  appearance,  arc  yet,  in  con- 
sequence of  our  previous  knowledge,  enlarged  in  our 
conceptions  of  them.  And  this  conceptive  enlargement 
communicates  itself,  by  a  sort  of  mental  illusion,  to  oth- 
er objects  with  which  they  seem  to  come  in  contact. 

§  42.   Of  the  estimation  of  distances  by  sight. 

We  are  next  led  to  the  consideration  of  distances  as 
made  known  and  ascertained  by  the  sight.  By  the  dis- 
tance  of  objects,  when  we  use  the  term  in  reference  tc 
ourselves,  we  mean  the  space  which  is  interposed  between 
those  objects  and  our  own  position.  It  might  be  object 
ed,  that  space  interposed  is  only  a  synonymous  expression 
for  the  thing  to  be  defined.  Nevertheless,  no  one  can  be 
supposed  tobe  ignorant  of  "Cvhat  is  meant.  Even  blind 
naen  have  a  notion  of  distance,  and  can  measure  it  by  the 
touch,  or  by  walking  forward  until  they  meet  the  distant 
object. 

The  perception  of  distance  by  the  sight  is  an  acquired 
and  not  an  original  perception  ;  although  the  latter  was 
universally  supposed  to  be  the  fact  until  comparatively  sr 
recent  period 


THE    SENSE    OF    SIGHT  6^ 

All  onjecfs  in  the  first  instance  appear  \v  iouih  the 
tye  ^  but  or.r  experience  has  corrected  so  many  of  the 
representations  of  the  senses,  before  the  period  which  we 
are  yet  able  to  retrace  by  the  memory,  that  we  cannot 
prove  this  by  a  reference  to  our  ow^n  childhood  and  infan- 
cy. It  appears,  however,  from  the  statement  of  the  ra- 
ses of  persons  born  blind  on  the  sudden  restoration  of 
their  sight. — "  When  he  first  saw,"  says  Cheselden,  the 
anatomist,  when  giving  an  account  of  a  young  man  whom 
he  had  restored  to  sight  by  couching  for  the  cataract, "  he 
was  so  far  from  making  any  judgment  about  distance, 
that  he  thought  all  objects  touched  his  eye,  as  he  express- 
ed V,  as  what  he  felt  did  his  skin ;  and  thought  no  ob- 
jects so  agreeable  as  those  which  w^ere  smooth  and  regu- 
lar, although  he  could  form  no  judgment  of  their  shape, 
or  guess  what  it  w^as  in  any  object  that  w^as  pleasing  to 
him." 

This  anatomist  has  further  informed  us,  that  he  has 
brought  to  sight  several  others  who  had  no  remembrance 
of  ever  having  seen  ;  and  that  they  all  gave  the  same  ac- 
count of  their  learning  to  see,  as  they  called  it,  as  the 
young  man  already  mentioned,  although  not  in  so  many 
particulars  ;  and  that  they  all  had  this  in  common,  that, 
having  never  had  occasion  to  move  their  eyes,  they  kne^V 
not  how  to  do  it,  and,  at  first,  could  not  at  all  direct  them 
to  a  particular  object ;  but  in  time  they  acquired  that  fac- 
ulty, though  by  slow  degi'ees. 

•J  43.  Signs  by  means  of  which  we  estimate  distance  by  sight. 

Blind  persons,  when  at  first  restored  to  sight,  are  un- 
able to  estimate  the  distance  of  objects  by  that  sense,  but. 
soon  observing  that  certain  changes  in  the  \dsible  appeai- 
ance  of  bodies  always  accompany  a  change  of  distance, 
they  fall  upon  a  method  of  estimating  distance  by  the  vis- 
ible appearance.  And  it  w^ould  no  doubt  be  found,  if  it 
could  be  particularly  examined  into,  that  all  mankind 
come  to  possess  the  power  of  estimating  the  distances  oi 
objects'  by  sight  in  the  same  w^ay.  When  a  body  is  re' 
moved  from  us  and  placed  at  a  considerable  distance,  it 
becomes  smaller  in  its  visible  appearence,  its  colours  are 
less  lively,  and  its  outlines  less  clistirct ;  and  we  may  eX' 


OtJ  THE    SENSE   OF   SIGH?. 

pect  to  fiiid  various  intermediate  objects,  more  (f  fewsi 
in  number,  corresponding  with  tie  increase  of  the  dis- 
tance, showing  themselves  between  the  receding  object 
and  the  spectator.  And  hence  it  is,  that  a  certain  visible 
appearance  comes  to  be  the  sign  of  a  certain  distance. 

Historical  and  landscape  painters  are  enabled  to  turn 
these  facts  to  great  account  in  their  delineations.  By 
means  of  dimness  of  colour,  indistinctness  of  outline,  and 
Ihs  partial  interposition  of  other  objects,  they  are  enabled 
apparently  to  throw  back  to  a  very  considerable  distance 
from  the  eye  those  objects  which  they  wish  to  appear  re- 
mote. While  other  objects,  that  are  intended  to  appear 
near,  are  painted  vivid  in  colour,  large  in  size,  distinct  in 
outline,  and  are  separated  from  the  eye  of  the  spectator 
by  few  or  no  intermediate  objects. 

()  44.  Estimation  of  distance  when  unaided  by  intermediate  objects. 

(1.)  As  we  depend,  in  no  small  degree,  upon  interme- 
diate objects  in  forming  our  notions  of  distance,  it  results, 
that  we  arc  often  much  perplexed  by  the  absence  of  such 
objects.  Accordingly,  we  find  that  people  frequently  mis- 
take, when  they  attempt  to  estimate  by  the  eye  the  length 
or  width  of  unoccupied  plains  and  marshes,  generally 
making  the  extent  less  than  it  really  is.  For  the  same 
reason  they  misjudge  of  the  width  of  a  river,  estimating 
its  width  at  half  or  three  quarters  of  a  mile  at  the  most, 
when  it  is  perhaps  not  less  than  double  that  distance. 
The  same  holds  true  of  other  bodies  of  water ;  and  of 
all  other  things  which  are  seen  by  us  in  a  horizontal  po- 
.sition  and  under  similar  circumstances. 

(2.)  We  mistake  in  the  same  way  also  in  estimating 
the  height  of  steeples,  and  of  other  bodies  that  are  per* 
pendicular,  and  not  on  a  level  wdth  the  eye,  provided 
the  height  be  considerable.  As  the  upper  parts  of  the 
sieeple  out-top  the  surrounding  buildings,  and  there  arc 
no  contiguous  objects  with  which  to  compare  it,  any 
mfasurfement  taken  by  the  eye  must  be  inaccuiate,  but 
IS  generally  less  than  the  truth. 

(3)  The  fixed  stars,  when  viewed  by  the  eye,  all  ap- 
pear to  be  alike  indefinitely  and  equally  distant.  ]5ciny 
ar altered  over  the  whole  sky,  they  make  every  part  of  il 


THE   SENSE    OF   SIGHT.  5v 

setm,  ]ik<«.  themselves,  at  an  indefinite  and  tqual  distance, 
and  therefore  contribute  to  give  the  whole  sky  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  inside  of  a  sphere.  Moreover,  the  hori- 
zon seems  to  the  eye  to  be  further  off  than  the  zenith ; 
becau?e  between  us  and  the  former  there  he  many  things, 
as  fiekls,  hills,  and  waters,  which  we  know  to  occupy  a 
ijreat  space  ;  whereas  between  us  and  the  zenith  there 
zre  no  considerable  things  of  known  dimensions.  And, 
therefore,  the  heavens  appear  like  the  segment  of  a 
sphere,  and  less  than  a  hemisphere,  in  the  centre  of 
which  we  seem  to  stand. — And  the  wider  our  pros]»ect 
is,  tlie  greater  will  the  sphere  appear  to  be,  and  the  less 
the  segment. 

|J45.  Of  objects  seen  on  the  ocean,  &c. 

A  vessel  seen  at  sea  by  a  person  who  is  not  accustom- 
ed to  the  ocean,  appears  much  nearer  than  it  actually  is ; 
and  on  the  same  principles  as  already  illustrated.  In  his 
previous  observations  of  the  objects  at  a  distance,  he  has 
'iommonly  noticed  a  number  of  intermediate  objects,  in  • 
terposed  between  the  distant  body  and  himself.  It  is  prob- 
ably the  absence  of  such  objects  that  chiefly  causes  thv. 
deception  under  which  he  labours  in  the  present  instance 

In  connexion  with  what  has  been  said,  we  are  led  t( 
make  this  further  remark,  that  a  change  in  the  purity  ol 
the  air  will  perplex  in  some  measure  those  ideas  of  dis- 
tance which  we  receive  from  sight.  Bishop  Berkeley  re 
marks,  while  travelling  in  Italy  and  Sicily,  he  noticed 
that  cities  and  palaces  seen  at  a  great  distance  appeared 
nearer  to  him  by  several  miles  than  they  actually  wore. 
The  cause  of  this  he  very  correctly  supposed  to  be  the 
purity  of  the  Italian  and  Sicilian  air,  which  gave  to  ob- 
jects at  a  distance  a  degree  of  brightness  and  distinct- 
ness which,  in  the  less  clear  and  pure  atmosphere  of  his 
native  country,  could  be  observed  only  in  those  towns  and 
separate  edifices  which  were  near.  At  home  he  havi 
learned  to  estimate  the  distances  of  objects  by  their  ap- 
pearance ;  but  his  conclusions  failed  him  when  they 
came  to  be  applied  to  objects  in  countries  where  the  air 
was  so  much  clearer. — And  the  same  thing  has  been  no- 
ticed by  other  travellers,  who  have  been  placed  in  tfap 
like  fj.rci.'instances. 


ft??  ILA.BrrS   OF   SENSATION   AND   PERCKPTIOM. 

CHAPTER  1,  n. 

HABITS   OF   SENSATION   ANJt   PERCEPTION. 
^  46.  General  view  of  the  law  of  habit  and  of  its  applicaliora. 

There  is  an  important  law  of  the  mental  constitution 
known  as  the  law  of  Habit,  which  may  be  described  in 
general  terms  as  follows :  That  the  mental  action  acquires 
facility  and  streugth  from  re-petition  or  practice.  The 
fact  thai  +he  facility  and  the  increase  of  strength,  implied 
in  HABIT,  is  owing  to  mere  repetition,  or  what  is  more  fre- 
quently termed  practice,  we  learn,  as  we  do  other  facts 
and  principles  in  relation  to  the  mind,  from  the  observa- 
tion of  men  around  us,  and  from  our  own  personal  expe- 
rience. And  as  it  has  hitherto  been  found  impracticable 
to  resolve  it  into  any  general  fact  or  principle  more  ele- 
mentary, it  may  justly  be  regarded  as  something  ultimate 
and  essential  in  our  nature. 

The  term  Habit,  by  the  use  of  language,  indicates  the 
facility  and  strength  acquired  ni  the  w^ay  which  has  been 
mentioned,  including  both  the  result  and  the  manner  of 
it.  As  the  law  of  habit  has  reference  to  the  whole  mind 
of  man,  the  application  of  the  term  which  expresses  it  is, 
of  course,  very  extensive.  We  apply  it  to  the  dexterity 
^jf  workmen  in  the  different  manual  arts,  to  the  rapidity  of 
the  accountant,  to  the  coup  d'oeil  or  eye-glance  of  the 
military  engineer,  to  the  tact  and  fluency  of  the  extempo- 
raneous speaker,  and  in  other  like  instances. — We  apply  it 
also  in  cases  where  the  mere  exercise  of  emotion  and  de- 
sire is  concerned ;  to  the  avaricious  man's  lovt,-  o{  wealth, 
the  ambitious  man's  passion  for  distinction,  the  wakeful 
siL-^picions  of  the  jealous,  and  the  confirmed  and  substan- 
tial benevolence  of  the  philanthropist. 

^  47.  The  law  of  habit  applicable  to  the  mind  as  well  as  tl  e  Lody. 

It  Ls  remarkable,  that  the  law  under  consideration  holds 
good  in  resoect  to  the  body  as  well  as  the  mind.  In  tlie 
rnechanical  arts,  and  in  all  cases  where  there  is  a  coioo- 


HABITS    OF    SENSATION    AND    PERCEI'TIjN.  t\i 

real  as  well  as  mental  erfbrt,  the  effect  of  practice  will 
be  found  to  extend  to  both.  Not  only  the  acts  oi  the 
mind  are  quickened  ana  strengthened,  but  all  those  mus- 
cles which  are  at  such  times  employed,  become  stronger 
and  more  obedient  to  the  will.  Indeed,  the  submission 
of  the  muscular  effort  to  the  volition  is  oftentimes  render-« 
ed  so  prompt  by  habit,  that  we  are  unable  distinctly  to 
recollect  any  exercise  of  volition  previous  to  the  active 
or  muscular  exertion.  It  is  habit  which  is  the  basis 
of  those  characteristic  peculiarities  that  distinguish  one 
man's  handwriting  from  another's;  it  is  habit  which 
causes  that  peculiarity  of  attitude  and  motion  so  easily 
discoverable  in  most  persons,  termed  their  gait ;  it  is  habit 
also  which  has  impressed  on  the  muscles,  immediately 
connected  with  the  organs  of  speech,  that  fixed  and  pre- 
cise form  of  action,  which,  in  different  individuals,  gives 
rise,  in  part  at  least,  to  characteristics  of  voice.  The 
habit,  in  t'ne  cases  just  mentioned,  is  both  bodily  and  men- 
tal, and  has  become  so  strong,  that  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  counteract  it  for  any  length  of  time. — The  great  law 
of  Habit  is  applicable  to  all  the  leading  divisions  of  our 
mental  nature,  the  Intellect,  the  Sensibilities,  and  the 
Will ;  and  as  we  advance  from  one  view  of  the  mind  to 
another,  we  shall  have  repeated  occasion  to  notice  its  in- 
fluence. In  the  remainder  of  this  chapter  we  shall  limit 
9ur  remarks  to  Habit,  considered  in  connexion  with  the 
Sensations  and  Perceptions. 

^  48.  Of  habit  in  relation  to  the  smell. 

We  shall  consider  the  application  of  the  principle  of 
Habit  to  the  senses  in  the  same  order  which  has  already 
been  observed.  In  the  first  place,  there  are  habits  of 
Smeil. — This  sense,  like  the  others,  is  susceptible  of  cul- 
tivation. As  there  are  some  persons  whose  power  of 
distinguishing  the  difference  of  two  or  more  colours  is 
feeble ;  so  there  are  some  who  are  doubtful  and  perplex- 
ed in  like  manner  in  the  discrimination  of  odours.  And 
as  the  inability  may  be  overcome  in  some  measure  in  the 
former  case,  so  it  may  be  in  the  latter.  The  fact  that 
the  powers  of  which  the  smell  is  capable  are  not  more 
frequently  brought  out  and  quickened,  is  owing  to  thr 


60  FL^EITS   OF    SENSATION    AND    PERCKPTION 

circumstance  that  it  is  not  ordinarily  needed.  It  some« 
rimes  happens,  however,  that  men  are  compelled  to  make 
an  uncommon  use  of  it,  when,  by  a  defect  in  the  other 
senses^  they  are  left  without  the  ordinary  helps  to  knowl- 
fidge.  It  is  then  w^e  see  the  effects  of  the  law  of  Habit 
It  is  stated  in  Mr.  Stewart's  account  of  James  Mitchell, 
■who  was  deaf,  sightless,  and  speechless,  and,  of  course, 
strongly  induced  by  his  unfortunate  situation  to  make 
touch  use  of  the  sense  we  are  considering,  that  his  smell 
would  immediately  and  ii.variably  inform  him  of  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger,  and  direct  to  the  place  where  he 
might  be ;  and  it  is  repeatedly  asserted,  that  this  sense 
had  become  m  him  extremely  acute. — "  It  is  related," 
says  Dr.  Abercrombie,  "of  the  late  Dr.  Moyse,  the  well- 
known  blind  philosopher,  that  he  could  distinguish  a 
black  dress  on  his  friends  by  its  smell." 

In  an  interesting  account  of  a  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind 
girl  in  the  Hartford  Asylum,  recently  published,  state- 
ments are  made  on  this  subject  of  a  similar  purport. — 
"  It  has  been  observed,"  says  the  writer,  "  of  persons 
who  are  deprived  of  a  particular  sense,  that  additional 
quickness  or  vigour  seems  to  be  bestowed  on  those  which 
remain.  Thus  bhnd  persons  are  often  distinguished  by 
peculiar  exquisiteness  of  touch ;  and  the  deaf  and  dumb, 
who  gain  all  their  knowledge  through  the  eye,  concen- 
trate, as  it  were,  their  whole  souls  in  that  channel  of  ob- 
servation. With  her  whose  eye,  ear,  and  tongue  are 
alike  dead,  the  capabilities  both  of  touch  and  smell  are 
exceedingly  heightened.  Especially  the  latter  seems  al- 
most to  have  acquired  the  pi'operties  of  a  riew  sense,  and 
to  transcend  the  sagacity  even  of  a  spaniel." — Such  is 
the  influence  of  habit  on  the  intimations  of  the  sens« 
under  consideration. 

(j  49.  Of  habit  in  relation  to  the  taste. 

The  same  law  is  applicable  to  the  Taste.  We  see  the. 
r/isults  of  the  frequent  exercise  of  this  sense  in  the  quick- 
r.ess\\hich  the  dealer  in  wines  discovers  in  distinguish- 
ing the  flavour  of  one  wine  from  that  of  another.  So 
marked  are  the  results  in  cases  of  this  kind,  that  one  is 
almost  disposed  to  credit  the  story  which  Cervan'es  re- 


HABITS   OF    SENSATION    AND    PERCKITION.  ^f 

lates  of  two  pers'  ns,  who  were  requested  to  pass  llieu 
udgment  upon  a  hogshead  which  was  supposed  to  be 
very  old  and  excellent.  One  of  them  tasted  the  wijie, 
and  pronounced  it  to  be  very  good,  with  the  exception  of 
a  slight  taste  of  leather  which  he  perceived  m  it.  The 
other,  after  mature  reflection  and  examination,  pronoun- 
ced tlie  same  favourable  verdict,  with  the  exce})tiGn  of  a 
taste  of  iron,  which  he  could  easily  distinguish.  On 
ejnptying  the  hogshead,  there  was  found  at  the  bottom  an 
old  key  with  a  leathern  thong  tied  to  it. 

Another  practical  view  of  this  subject,  however,  pre- 
sents itself  here.  The  sensations  which  we  experience 
in  this  and  other  like  cases,  not  only  acquire  by  repeti- 
tion greater  niceness  and  discrimination,  but  increased 
strength  ;  (and  perhaps  the  increased  strength  is  in  all  in- 
stances the  foundation  of  the  greater  power  of  discrimi- 
nation.) On  this  topic  we  have  a  wide  and  melancholy 
source  of  illustration.  The  bibber  of  wine  and  the  drink- 
er of  ardent  spirits  readily  acknowledge,  that  the  sensa- 
tion was  at  first  only  moderately  pleasing,  and  perhaps 
in  the  veiy  slightest  degree.  Every  time  they  carried  the 
intoxicating  potion  to  their  lips,  the  sensation  grew  more 
pleasing,  and  the  desire  for  it  waxed  stronger.  Perhaps 
they  were  not  aware  that  this  process  was  going  on  in 
virtue  of  a  great  law  of  humanity ;  but  they  do  not  pre- 
tend to  deny  the  fact.  They  might,  indeed,  have  suspect- 
ed at  an  early  period  that  chains  were  gathering  around 
them,  whatever  might  be  the  cause  ;  but  what  objection 
had  they  to  be  bound  with  links  of  flowers;  delightful 
while  they  lasted,  and  easily  broken  when  necessary ! 
liut  here  was  the  mistake.  Link  was  added  to  link; 
chain  was  woven  with  chain,  till  he  who  boasted  of  his 
strength  was  at  last  made  sensible  of  his  weakness,  and 
found  himself  r.  prisoner,  a  captive,  a  deformed,  altered, 
and  degraded  slave. 

1  here  is  a  threefold  operation.  The  sensation  of  taste 
icquires  an  enhanced  degree  of  pleasantness ;  the  feeling 
of  uneasiness  is  increased  in  a  corresponding  measure 
when  the  sensation  is  not  indulged  by  drinking ;  and  the 
/lesire,  which  is  necessarily  attendant  on  the  uneasy  feel« 
ing,  becomes  in  like  manner  more  and  more  i/npcrativfi 


62  fUblTS    OF   SENSATION    KNV    PERt;EFTION. 

To  alleviate  tlie  cneasy  feeling-  and  this  importunate  lie* 
sire,  the  unhappy  man  goes  again  to  his  cups,  and  with 
a  shakicg  hand  pours  down  the  delicious  poison.  What 
.hen  1  He  has  added  a  new  link  to  his  chain ;  at  evei-y 
repetition  it  grows  heavier  and  heavier,  till  that,  which  at 
first  he  bore  lightly  and  cheerfully,  now  presses  him  like 
a  coat  of  iron,  and  galls  like  fetters  of  steel.  There  is  a 
great  and  fearful  laAV  of  his  nature  bearing  him  down  to 
destruction.  Every  indulgence  is  the  addition  of  a  new 
weight  to  wdiat  was  before  placed  upon  him,  thus  less- 
ening the  probability  of  escape,  and  accelerating  his 
gloomy,  fearful,  and  interminable  sinking.  We  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  he  is  the  subject  of  an  implacable  des- 
tiny, and  cannot  help  himself.  But  it  would  seem  that 
he  can  help  himself  only  in  this  way ;  by  a  prompt,  ab- 
solute, and  entire  suspension  of  the  practice  in  all  its 
forms,  which  has  led  him  into  this  extremity.  But  few, 
however,  have  the  resolution  to  do  this ;  the  multitude 
make  a  few  unwilling  and  feeble  efforts,  and  resign  them- 
selves to  the  horrors  of  their  fate. 

()  50.  Of  habit  in  relation  to  the  hearing. 

There  is  undoubtedly  a  natural  difference  in  the  quick- 
ness and  discrimination  of  hearing.  This  sense  is  more 
acute  in  some  than  in  others ;  but  in  those  who  possess 
it  in  much  natural  excellence,  it  is  susceptible  of  a  high 
degree  of  cultivation.  Musicians  are  a  proof  of  this, 
whose  sensibility  to  the  melody  and  concord  of  sweet 
sounds  continually  increases  wdth  the  practice  of  their  art. 

The  increase  of  sensibility  in  the  perceptions  of  hea';- 
ing  is  especially  marked  and  evident,  when  uncommon 
causes  have  operated  to  secure  such  practice.  And  this  is 
the  state  of  things  with  the  Blind.  The  readers  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott  may  not  have  forgotten  the  blind  fiddler, 
v\'ho  fig  u.;es  so  conspicuously  with  verse  and  harp  m  Red 
Gauntlet ;  a  character  sufficiently  extraordinary,  but  by 
'10  means  an  improbable  exaggeration.  The  b\ind  neces- 
sarily rely  much  more  than  others  on  the  sense  of  hear- 
ing. By  constant  practice  they  increase  the  accuracy 
aiid  power  of  its  perceptior.s.  Shut  out  from  the  beau- 
d<s  that  aie  soen,  they  please  themselves  with  what  is 


HA.BITS   OF    SENSATION    AND   PERCEPTION.  63 

Reard,  and  greedily  drink  in  the  melodies  of  song.  A2 
cordingly,  music  is  made  by  them  not  only  a  solace, 
jbut  a  business  and  a  means  of  support ;  and  in  the  In- 
stitutions f)r  the  Blind  this  is  considered  an  importam 
department  of  instruction. 

Many  particular  instances  on  record,  and  well  authen- 
ricated,  confirm  the  general  statement,  that  the  ear  may 
b(:  trained  to  habits,  and  that  thus  the  sensations  of  sound 
ai'A-f  come  to  us  with  new  power  and  meaning.  It  is  re- 
fated  of  a  celebrated  blind  man  of  Puiseaux  in  France, 
Ihat  he  could  determine  the  quantity  of  fluid  in  vessels  by 
the  sound  it  produced  while  running  from  one  vessel  into 
another.  "  Dr.  Rush,"  as  the  statement  is  given  in  Aber- 
crombie's  Intellectual  Powers,  "relates  of  two  blind  young 
men,  brothers,  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  that  they  knew 
when  they  approached  a  post  in  walking  across  a  street 
by  a  peculiar  sound  which  the  ground  under  their  feet 
emitted  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  post ;  and  that  they 
could  tell  the  names  of  a  number  of  tame  pigeons,  with 
which  they  amused  themselves  in  a  little  garden,  by  only 
hearing  them  fly  over  their  heads,"  Ur.  Saunderson, 
who  became  blind  so  early  as  not  to  remember  having 
seen,  when  happening  in  any  new  place,  as  a  room,  pi- 
azza, pavement,  court,  and  the  like,  gave  it  a  character  by 
means  of  the  sound  and  echo  from  his  feet ;  and  in  that 
way  was  able  to  identify  prettj'-  exactly  the  place,  and 
assure  himself  of  his  position  afterward.  A  writer  in  the 
First  Volume  of  the  Manchester  Philosophical  Memoirs. 
who  is  our  authority  also  for  the  statement  just  made, 
speaks  of  a  certain  blind  man  in  that  city  as  follows :  "  1 
had  an  opportunity  of  repeatedly  observing  the  peculiar 
manner  in  which  he  arranged  his  ideas  and  acquired  lii3 
information.  Whenever  he  was  introduced  into  compa- 
ny, I  remarked  that  he  continued  some  time  silent,  'fhe 
6«^und  directed  him  to  judge  of  the  dimensions  of  the 
room,  and  the  diiferent  voices  of  the  number  of  persons 
that  were  present.  His  distinction  in  these  respects  was 
very  accurate,  and  his  memory  so  retentive  that  he  was 
selJom  mistaken.  I  have  known  him  instantly  recognise 
a  person  on  first  hearing  him,  though  more  th  an  two  yeai^s 
had  elapsed  since  the  tune  of  their  last  meetin^;^.     He 


b4  riAUirS   OF    SENSATIOV    AXD    rKRCEPTlON. 

determined  pretty  nearly  the  stature  of  those  he  wa  .  /;. « 
versing  with  by  the  direction  of  their  voice:?;  a.i.;i  h« 
made  tolerable  conjectures  respecting  their  tempers  and 
dispositions  by  the  manner  in  which  they  conducted  their 
conversation  " 

V  i>l.   Application  of  habit  to  the  touch. 

The  sense  of  touch,  like  the  others,  may  be  exceedingly 
amproved  by  habit.  The  more  we  are  obliged  to  call  i1 
mto  use,  the  more  attention  we  pay  to  its  intimations.  By 
the  frequent  repetition,  therefore,  under  such  circmnstan- 
ces,  these  sensations  not  only  acquire  increased  intense- 
ness  in  themselves,  but  particularly  so  in  reference  to  our 
notice  and  remembrance  of  them.  But  it  is  desirable  to 
confirm  this,  as  it  is  all  other  principles  from  time  to  time 
laid  down,  by  an  appeal  to  facts,  and  by  careful  indue, 
tions  from  them. 

Diderot  relates  of  the  blind  man  of  Puiseaux,  mention 
ed  in  a  former  section,  that  he  was  capable  of  judging  of 
his  distance  from  the  fireplace  by  the  degree  of  heat,  and 
of  his  approach  to  any  solid  bodies  by  the  action  or  pulse 
of  the  air  upon  his  face.  The  same  thing  is  recorded  of 
many  other  persons  in  a  similar  situation ;  and  it  may  be 
regarded  as  a  point  well  established,  that  blind  people 
who  are  unable  to  see  the  large  and  heavy  bodies  pre- 
senting themselves  in  their  way  as  th^y  walk  about,  gen- 
erally estimate  their  approach  to  them  by  the  increased 
resistance  of  the  atmosphere.  A  blind  person,  0A\ing  to 
the  increased  accuracy  of  his  remaining  sense*  especially 
of  the  touch,  would  be  better  trusted  to  go  through  the 
various  apartments  of  a  house  in  the  darkness  of  midnight, 
than  one  possessed  of  the  sense  of  seeing  without  any  ar- 
lificial  light  to  guide  him. 

la  the  celebrated  Dr.  Saunderson,  who  lost  his  sight  in 
very  early  youth,  and  remained  blind  through  life,  al- 
though he  occupied  the  professorship  of  mathematics  in 
the  English  University  of  Cambridge,  the  touch  acquirer 
such  ac'iteness  that  he  could  distinguish,  by  merely  let- 
ting them  pass  through  his  fingers,  spurious  coins,  wTiicyi 
were  so  well  executed  as  to  deceive  even  skilful  judge* 
who  could  see.* 

*  Memoirs  of  the  Manchester  Philosophical  Society,  vol.  i.,  o   "6i. 


HABITS    OF    SENSATION    AND    PEKCEFTIOST-  Rb 

The  case  of  a  Mr.  John  Melcalf,  otherwise  called  Blind 
Jack,  which  is  particularly  dwelt  upon  hy  the  author  of 
the  Article  in  the  Memoirs  just  referred  to,  is  a  striking 
one.  The  writer  states  that  he  became  blind  at  an  early 
period;  but,  notwithstanding,  followed  the  profession  of 
a  wagoner,  and  occasionally  of  a  guide  in  intricate  roads 
rtm-ingf  the  nioht,  or  when  the  tracks  w^ere  covered  with 
«iow.  At  length  he  became  a  projector  and  surveyor  oi 
fiighways  in  dithcult  and  mountainous  districts ;  an  em- 
ployment for  which  one  would  naturally  suppose  a  blind 
man  to  be  but  indifferently  qualified.  But  he  was  found 
to  answer  all  the  expectations  of  his  employers,  and  most 
of  the  roads  over  the  Peak  in  Derbyshire,  in  England, 
were  altered  by  his  directions.  Says  the  person  who 
gives  this  account  of  Blind  Jack,  "  I  have  several  times 
met  this  man,  with  the  assistance  of  a  long  staff,  traversing 
the  roads,  ascending  precipices,  exploring  valleys,  and 
investigating  their  several  extents,  forms,  and  situations, 
so  as  to  answer  his  designs  in  the  best  manner." 

In  the  interesting  Schools  for  the  Blind  which  have 
recently  been  established  in  various  parts  of  the  w^orld, 
the  pupils  read  by  means  of  the  fingers.  They  very  soon 
learn  by  the  touch  to  distinguish  one  letter  from  another, 
which  are  made  separately  for  that  purpose  of  wood, 
metals,  or  other  hard  materials.  The  printed  sheets 
which  they  use  are  conformed  to  their  method  of  study- 
ing them.  The  types  are  much  larger  than  those  ordina- 
rily used  in  printing ;  the  paper  is  very  thick,  and  being 
put  upon  the  types  while  wet,  and  poAverfully  pressed, 
the  letters  on  it  are  consequently  ^m'sec^,  and  appear  in 
relief.  The  pupils  having  before  learned  to  distinguish 
one  letter  from  another,  and  also  to  combine  them  into 
syllables  and  words,  are  able  after  a  time  to  pass  their 
fingers  along  the  words  and  sentences  of  these  printed 
rbeets,  and  ascertain  the'r  meaning,  with  a  good  degree 
of  rapidity. 

ij  52.   Other  striking  instances  of  habits  of  touch. 

The  power  of  the  touch  will  increase  in  proportion  to 
the  necessity  of  a  reliance  on  it.  The  more  frequent  the 
resort  to  it,  the  stronger  will  be  the  habit ;  but  the  nects.* 

F2 


66  IIALITS    OF    SE^JATION    A^ND    PERCEI'TIO>i 

sty  of  ills  fre]uent  reference  to  it  will  be  found  to  be 
peculiarly  great  where  a  person  is  deprived  of  two  of  his 
other  senses  It  is  noticed  of  James  Mitchell,  whose  c  ase 
has  heen  already  referred  to,  that  he  distinguished  such 
articles  as  belonged  to  himself  from  the  property  of  others 
hy  this  sense.  Although  the  articles  were  of  the  same 
form  and  materials  with  those  of  others,  it  would  seem 
'hat  he  was  not  at  a  loss  in  identifying  what  was  his  own. 
It  will  be  recollected  that  he  could  neither  see  nor  hear, 
and  was,  of  com-se,  speechless.  He  was  obliged,  there- 
fore, to  depend  chiefly  on  the  touch.  This  sense  was  the 
principal  instrument  he  made  use  of  in  forming  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  strangers  who  frequently  visited  him. 
And  what  is  particularly  remarkable,  he  actually  explored 
by  it,  at  an  early  period,  a  space  round  his  father's  resi- 
dence of  about  two  hundred  yards  in  extent,  to  any  part 
of  which  he  was  in  the  practice  of  walking  fearlessly  and 
without  a  guide,  wdienever  he  pleased. 

It  is  related  of  the  deaf  and  blind  girl  in  the  Hartford 
Asylum,  that  it  is  impossible  to  displace  a  single  article 
m  her  drawers  without  her  perceiving  and  knowing  it ; 
and  that,  when  the  baskets  of.  linen  are  weekly  brought 
from  the  laundress,  she  selects  her  own  garments  wuthout 
hesitation,  however  widely  they  may  be  dispersed  among 
the  mass.  This  is  probably  owing,  at  least  in  great  part, 
to  habits  of  touch,  by  means  of  which  the  sense  is  render- 
ed exceedingly  acute. — Diderot  has  even  gone  so  far  as 
to  conjecture  that  persons  deprived  of  both  sight  and 
hearing  would  so  increase  the  sensibility  of  touch  as  to 
locate  the  seat  of  the  soul  in  the  tips  of  the  fingers 

^  515.  Habits  considered  in  relation  to  the  sight. 

fhe  law  of  habit  affects  the  sight  also.  By  a  course 
*>f  training  this  sense  seems  to  acquire  new  power.  The 
length  and  acuteness  of  vision  in  the  mariner  who  has 
loing  traversed  the  ocean  has  been  freouently  referred  to. 
•— A  writer  in  the  North  American  Review  (July,  1833) 
says,  he  once  "  knew  a  man,  in  the  Greek  island  of  Hy- 
dra, who  was  accustomed  to  take  his  post  every  day  for 
thirty  years  on  the  summit  of  the  island,  and  look  ovit  foi 
the  a]>proach  of  vessels;  and  although  there  were  ovei 


IJVBITS    OF    SENSATION    AND    PERCEPIION.  HV 

three  himilred  sail  Leionging  to  the  island,  he  would  tcli 
the  name  of  each  one  a.s  she  approached  with  uneiiing 
certainty,  while  she  was  still  at  such  a  distance  as  to  pre- 
sent to  a  common  eye  only  a  confused  white  blur  u])on 
the  clear  horizon."  There  are  numerous  instances  to  the 
same  effect,  occasioned  by  the  situations  in  which  men 
are  placed,  and  the  calls  for  the  frequent  exercise  of  the 
sight.  The  almost  intuitive  vision  of  the  skilful  engineer 
is,  beyond  doubt,  in  most  cases  merely  a  habit.  He  has 
so  often  fixed  his  eye  upon  those  features  in  a  country 
•which  have  a  relation  to  his  peculiar  calling,  that  he  in- 
stantly detects  the  bearing  of  a  military  position,  its  sus- 
ceptibility of  defence,  its  facilities  of  approach  and  re^ 
treat,  &c. 

No  man  is  born  without  the  sense  of  touch,  but  many 
are  born  without  the  sense  of  hearing ;  and,  wherever  this 
is  the  case,  we  are  entitled  to  look  for  habits  of  sight. 
Persons  under  such  circiunstances  naturally  and  necessa- 
rily rely  much  on  the  visual  sense,  whatever  aids  may  be 
had  by  them  from  the  touch.  Hence  habits ;  and  these 
unply  increased  quickness  and  power,  wherever  they  ex- 
ist. It  is  a  matter  of  common  remark,  that  the  keenness 
of  visual  observation  in  the  deaf  and  dumb  is  strikingly 
increased  by  their  peculiar  circumstances.  Shut  out  from 
the  intercom'se  of  speech,  they  read  the  minds  of  men  in 
their  movements,  gestures,  and  countenances.  They  no- 
tice with  astonishing  quickness,  and  appartntly  without 
any  effort,  a  thousand  things  which  escape  the  regards  of 
others.  This  fact  is  undoubtedly  the  foundation  of  the 
chief  encouragement  wdiich  men  have  to  attempt  the  in- 
s'xuction  of  that  numerous  and  unfortunate  class  of  their 
iellow-beings.  They  can  form  an  opinion  of  what  an- 
other says  to  them  by  the  motion  of  the  lips ;  and  some- 
times even  wdth  a  great  degree  of  accuracy.  That  this  last, 
however,  is  common,  it  is  not  necessary  to  assert ;  that  it 
B  possible,  w^e  have  the  testimony  of  well-authenticated 
facts.  In  one  of  his  letters,  Bishop  Burnet  mentions  to 
this  effect  the  case  of  a  yoimg  lady  at  Geneva. — "  At 
iwo  years  old,"  he  says,  "  it  was  perceived  that  she  had 
lost  her  hearing,  and  ever  since,  though  she.  hears  great 
noises,  yet  hears  nothing  of  what  is  said  to  her ;  but,  b-y 


68  HABITS    OF    SENSATION    AND    PERCT.?TION- 

observing  the  motion  of  the  L'ps  and  mouths  of  ottera, 
she  acquired  so  many  words,  that  out  of  these  she  has 
formed  a  sort  of  jargon  in  wliich  she  can  hold  conversa- 
tion whole  days  with  those  who  can  speak  her  language. 
She  knows  nothing  of  what  is  said  to  her,  unless  she  sees 
the  motion  of  their  lips  that  speak  to  her ;  one  thing  wiU 
appear  the  strangest  part  of  the  whole  narrative.  She 
lias  a  sister  with  whom  she  has  practised  her  language 
mere  than  with  anybody  else,  and  in  the  night,  by  laying 
her  hand  on  her  sister's  mouth,  she  can  perceive  by  that 
what  she  says,  and  so  can  discourse  \\ith  her  in  the  dark." 
(London  Quarterly  Review,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  399.) 

Such  are  the  viev/s  whicii  have  been  opened  to  us  in 
considering  the  law  of  il\bit  in  connexion  with  the  sen- 
ses ;  and  we  may  venture  to  say  with  confidence,  that 
they  are  exceedingly  worthy  of  notice.  There  are  two 
suggestions  which  they  are  especially  fitted  to  call  up. 
They  evince  the  striking  powers  of  the  human  mind,  its 
irrepressible  energies,  which  no  obstacles  can  bear  down. 
They  evince  also  the  benevolence  of  our  Creator,  who 
opens  in  the  hour  of  misery  new  sources  of  comfort,  and 
compensates  for  what  we  have  not,  by  increasing  the 
power  and  value  of  what  we  have. 

<J  54.   Sensations  may  possess  a  relative,  as  well  as  positive  increase  of 
power. 

There  remains  a  remark  of  some  importance  to  be  made 
in  connexion  with  the  general  principle  which  has  been 
brought  forward,  and  as  in  some  measure  auxiliary  to  it; 
for  it  will  help  to  explain  the  more  striking  instances  of 
habits,  if  any  should  imagine  that  the  fact  of  mere  repe- 
tition is  not  sufficient  to  account  for  them.  Our  sensa- 
tions and  perceptions  may  acquire  not  only  a  direct  and 
positive,  but  a  relative  and  virtual  increase  of  power. 

This  remark  is  thus  explained.  We  shall  hereafter  see 
the  truth  of  an  important  principle  to  this  effect,  that  there 
will  be  a  weakness  of  remembrance  in  any  particular  case 
III  proportion  to  the  want  of  interest  in  it.  Now  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  our  sensations  and  perceptions  are 
not  remembered,  because  we  take  no  interest  in  them.  Of 
course  they  are  the  same,  relatively  to  our  amomt  of 


HABrrS    OF    SENSATION    AND    PERCEPTIOTi.  69 

knowledge  and  our  practice,  as  if  they  had  never  cxistod 
at  all.  But  when  we  are  placed"  in  some  novel  situation, 
or  when,  in  particular,  we  are  deprived  of  any  one  of  the 
senses,  the  pressure  of  our  necessities  creates  that  interest 
which  was  wanting  before.  Then  we  delay  upon,  and 
mark,  and  remember,  and  interpret  a  multitude  of  evan- 
escent intimations  w4iich  were  formerly  neglected.  'I'he 
senses  thus  acquire  a  very  considerable  relative  power 
and  value.  And  in  order  to  make  out  a  satisfactory  ex- 
planation of  some  instances  of  habits,  it  is  perhaps  neces- 
sary that  this  relative  increase  should  be  added  to  the  di- 
lect  and  positive  augmentation  of  vigour  and  quicknesi? 
resulting  from  mere  repetition  or  exercise. 

^  55.  Of  habits  as  modified  b)'  particular  callings  and  arts. 

Hitherto  it  has  been  our  chief  object  to  examine  hab- 
its in  their  relation  to  the  senses  separately ;  it  is  proper 
also  to  take  a  general  view  of  them,  as  formed  and  mod- 
ified by  the  particular  callings  and  employments  of  men. 
Habits  of  perception  are  frequently  formed  under  such 
circumstances,  where  all  the  senses  are  not  only  possess- 
ed, but  where  they  exist  w^ith  their  ordinary  aptitudes  and 
powers. — In  consequence  of  the  habits  which  he  has  been 
called  upon  to  form  by  his  particular  situation,  a  farmer 
of  a  tolerable  degree  of  experience  and  discernment  re- 
quires but  a  slight  inspection,  in  order  to  give  an  opinion 
on  the  qualities  of  a  piece  of  land,  audits  suitableness  foj 
a  settlement.  A  skilful  printer  will  at  once  notice  every- 
thing of  excellence  or  of  deficiency  in  the  mechanical 
execution  of  a  printed  work. — The  same  results  are  found 
in  all  who  practise  the  fine  arts.  An  experienced  paint- 
er at  once  detects  a  mannerism  in  colouring,  combinations 
and  contrasts  of  light  and  shade,  and  peculiarities  of  form, 
proportion,  oi  position,  which  infallibly  escape  a  person 
of  more  limited  experience. 

Dr.  Reid  speaks  on  this  subject  in  the  following  char- 
acteristic manner. — "  Not  only  men,  but  children,  idiots, 
and  brutes,  acquire  by  habit  many  perceptions  which  they 
had  not  originally.  Almost  every  employment  in  life 
hath  perceptions  of  this  kind  that  are  peculiar  to  it  The 
shepherd  knows  eveiy  sheep  of  his  flock,  as  »vc  do  oui 


70  HABITS    OP    SENSATION   AND   PERCKl'TION. 

acquaintance,  and  can  pick  tLem  out  of  another  flock  o..ie 
by  one.  The  butcher  knows  by  sight  the  weight  and 
quahty  of  his  beeves  and  sheep  before  they  are  killed 
The  farmer  perceives  by  his  eye  ^  ery  nearly  the  quantity 
of  hay  in  a  .icl:,  or  of  corn  in  a  heap.  The  sailor  sees 
the  burden,  the  built,  and  the  distance  of  a  ship  at  sea, 
while  she  is  a  great  way  off.  Every  man  accustomed  to 
writing,  distinguishes  acquaintances  by  their  handwriting, 
ay  he  does  by  their  faces.  And  the  painter  distinguishes, 
in  the  works  of  his  art,  the  style  of  all  the  great  masters. 
In  a  word,  acquired  perception  is  very  different  in  differ- 
ent persons,  according  to  the  diversity  of  objects  about 
which  they  are  employed,  and  the  application  they  bestow 
in  observing  them."* 

^  56.  The  law  of  habit  considered  in  reference  to  the  perception  of  tiie 
outHnes  and  forms  of  objects. 

Before  leaving  the  subject  of  Habit,  considered  as  in- 
fluencing Sensation  and  Perception,  there  is  one  other 
topic  w^hich  seem.s  to  be  entitled  to  a  brief  notice ;  we 
refer  to  the  manner  in  which  we  perceive  the  outlines  and 
forms  of  bodies.  In  discussing  the  subject  of  Attention, 
Mr.  Stew^art,  in  connexion  with  his  views  on  that  subject, 
introduces  some  remarks  in  respect  to  vision.  He  makes 
this  supposition,  That  the  eye  is  fixed  in  a  particular  po- 
sition, and  the  picture  of  an  object  is  painted  on  the  ret- 
ina. He  then  starts  this  inquiry :  Does  the  mind  per- 
ceive the  complete  figure  of  the  object  at  once,  or  is  this 
perception  the  result  of  the  various  perceptions  w^e  have 
of  the  different  points  in  the  outline  ? — He  holds  the 
opinion,  that  the  perception  is  the  result  of  our  percep- 
tions of  the  different  points  in  the  outline,  which  he  adopts 
as  naturally  consequent  on  such  views,  as  the  folloAving 
The  outline  of  every  body  is  made  up  of  points  or  small- 
est visible  portions ;  no  two  of  these  points  can  be  in 
precisely  the  same  direction ;  therefore  every  point  by  it- 
self constitutes  just  as  distinct  an  object  of  attention  to  tho 
mind,  as  if  it  were  separated  by  some  interval  of  empty 
space  from  all  the  other  points.  The  conclusion  there- 
fore is,  as  every  body  is  made  up  of  parts,  and  as  the  pcr- 

'  Reid's  Inquiry  intj  the  Human  Mind,  chap  v'.,  ij  20. 


HABITS   OF    SENSATION   AND   rLRCfPIiON.  7. 

ception  (,f  th  j  figure  of  the  whole  object  iraphes  ;i  knovvJ- 
cdge  of  the  relative  situation  of  the  different  parts  wili 
respect  to  each  other,  that  such  perception  is  the  result 
of  a  number  of  different  acts  of  attention. 

But  if  we  adopt  this  view  of  Mr,  Stewart,  it  is  incum* 
Dent  upon  us  to  show  how  it  happens  that  we  appear  to 
bee  the  object  at  once.  The  various  facts  which  have 
been  brought  forward  in  this  chapter  appear  to  furnish 
iLS  with  a  solution  of  this  question.  The  answer  is,  that 
the  acts  of  perception  are  performed  with  such  rapidity, 
that  the  effect  with  respect  to  us  is  the  same  as  if  it  were 
instantaneous.  A  habit  has  been  formed ;  the  glance  of 
the  mind,  in  the  highest  exercise  of  that  habit,  is  inde- 
scribably quick ;  time  is  virtually  annihilated ;  and.  sep- 
arate moments  are  to  our  apprehension  of  them  crowded 
ijito  one, 

$  5?.  Notice  of  some  facts  which  favour  the  above  doctrine. 

Some  persons  will  probably  entertain  doubts  of  Mr. 
Stewart's  explanation  of  the  manner  in  wdiich  we  per- 
ceive the  outlines  of  objects ;  but  there  are  various  cir- 
cumstances which  tend  to  confirm  it. — When  we  look  for 
the  fost  time  on  any  object  which  is  diversified  with  gaudy 
colours,  the  mind  is  evidently  perplexed  wdth  the  variety 
of  perceptions  which  arise ;  the  view  is  indistinct,  which 
would  not  be  the  case  if  there  were  only  one,  and  that  an 
immediate  perception.  And  even  in  paintings,  wdiich  are 
of  a  more  laudable  execution,  the  effects  at  the  first  per- 
ception will  be  similar. 

But  there  is  another  fact  which  comes  still  more  di- 
rectly to  the  present  point.  We  find  that  w^e  do  not  havy 
as  distinct  an  idea,  at  the  first  glance,  of  a  figure  of  a 
hundred  sides,  as  we  do  of  a  triangle  or  square.  But  we 
evidently  should,  if  the  perception  of  visible  figure  were 
(he  immediate  consequence  of  the  picture  on  the  retina, 
and  not  the  combined  result  of  the  separate  perceptions 
of  the  points  in  the  outline.  Whenerer  the  figure  is  veiy 
simple,  the  process  of  the  mind  is  so  very  rapid  that  the 
perception  seems  to  be  instantaneous.  But  when  the 
sides  are  multiplied  beyond  a  certain  number,  the  inter- 
val of  time  necessary  for  these  different  arts  of  attention 


72  ILIBITS    OF    SENSATION    AND    1^EKC£PTI(.>N 

becomes  perceptible.  We  are  then  distinctly  conscioui 
tkat  the  mind  labours  from  one  part  of  the  object  to  an- 
other,  and  that  some  time  elapses  before  we  grasp  it  as  a 
whole. 

^  58.  Additional  illus.rat'ons  of  Mr.  Stewail  a  doctrine. 

These  views  and  illustrations  are  still  further  confirmed 
by  some  Interesting,  and  perhaps  more  decisive  facts.  lis 
1807,  Sir  Everard  Home,  well  known  for  his  various  phil 
osophical  publications,  read  before  the  Royal  Society  an 
account  of  two  blind  children  whom  he  had  couched  for 
the  cataract.  One  of  these  was  John  Salter.  Upon  this 
boy  various  experiments  were  made,  for  the  purpose, 
amono;  other  things,  of  ascertaining;  whether  the  sense  of 
sight  does  originally,  and  of  itself  alone,  give  us  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  true  figure  of  bodies.  Some  of  the  facts  eli- 
cited under  these  circumstances  have  a  bearing  upon  the 
subject  now  before  us.  In  repeated  instances,  on  the  day 
of  his  restoration  to  sight,  the  boy  called  square  and  tri- 
angular bodies,  which  were  presented  to  the  visual  sense 
merely,  round.  On  a  square  body  being  presented  to  him, 
he  expressed  a  desire  to  touch  it.  "  This  being  refused, 
he  examined  it  for  some  time,  and  said  at  last  that  he  had 
found  a  corner,  and  then  readily  counted  the  four  corners 
of  the  square ;  and  afterward,  when  a  triangle  was  shown 
him,  he  counted  the  corners  in  the  same  way;  but, in 
doing  so,  his  eye  went  along  the  edge  from  corner  to  cor- 
ner, naming  them  as  he  wxnt  along."  On  the  thirteenth 
day  after  the  cataract  was  removed,  the  visual  power  he 
had  acquired  was  so  small,  that  he  could  not  by  sight  tell 
a  square  from  a  circle,  without  previously  directing  his 
sight  to  the  corners  of  the  square  figure  as  he  did  at  first, 
and  thus  passing  from  corner  to  corner,  and  counting  thera 
one  by  one.  It  was  noticed  that  the  sight  seemed  to  la« 
hour  slowly  onward  from  one  point  and  angle  to  another, 
as  if  it  were  incapable  of  embracing  the  outline  by  a 
simultaneous  and  undivided  movement.  The  process, 
however,  became  more  and  more  easy  and  rapid,  until 
the  perception,  w^hich  at  first  was  obviously  made  up  of 
distinct  and  successive  r.cts,  came  to  be  in  appearance 
(and  we  may  sujipose  it  was  only  in  appearance)  a  con- 
pentratcd  an/ 1  a'lM'gli:  one. 


CONCEPTIONS. 


73 


\i  was  the  same  with  Caspar  Hauser.  It  is  remarked 
by  his  biographer,  that  whenever  a  person  was  introdu- 
ced to  him,  (this  was  probably  soon  after  his  release  from 
his  prison,)  he  went  up  very  close  to  him,  regarded  him 
with  a  sharp,  staring  look,  and  noticed  particularly  each 
distinct  part  of  his  face,  such  as  the  forehead,  eyes,  nose, 
mouth,  and  chin.  He  then  collected  and  consolidated  all 
the  ditferent  parts  of  the  countenance,  which  he  had  no- 
ticed separately  and  piece  by  piece,  into  one  whole.  And 
it  was  not  till  after  this  process  that  he  seemed  to  have. 
a  knowledo-e  of  the  countenance  or  face,  in  distinction 
from  the  parts  of  the  face. 


CHAPTER  VUI. 

CONCEPTIONS. 

<)  59.  Meaning  and  characteristics  of  conceptions. 

We  are  now  led,  as  we  advance  in  the  general  subject 
of  intellectual  states  of  external  origin,  to  contemplate 
the  mind  in  another  view,  viz.,  as  employed  in  giving  rise 
to  what  are  usually  termed  conceptions.  Without  pro- 
fessing to  propose  a  definition  in  all  respects  unexcep- 
tionable, we  are  entitled  to  say,  in  general  terms,  that  this 
name  is  given  to  any  re-existing  sensations  whatever 
which  the  mind  has  felt  at  some  former  period,  and  to 
the  ideas  which  we  frame  of  absent  objects  of  perception. 
Whenever  we  have  conceptions,  our  sensations  and  per- 
ceptions are  replaced,  as  Shakspeare  expresses  it,  in  the 
•'  mind's  eye,"  without  our  at  all  considering  at  what 
time  or  In  what  i>lace  they  first  originated.  In  other 
words,  they  are  revived  or  recalled,  and  nothing  niore,- 
Using,  therefore,  the  terra  conceptions  to  express  a  class 
of  mental  states,  and,  in  accordance  with  the  general 
|»lan,  having  particular  reference  in  our  remarks  here  to 
such  as  are  of  external  origin,  it  may  aid  in  the  bette 
understanding  of  their  distinctive  character  if  we  mention 
more-  particularly  how  tliey  differ  both  from  £ensatJon.t 


74  CONCEPTIONS. 

and  percept'loiis,  and  also  from  rememLrances,  with  which 
last  some  may  imagine  tliem  to  be  essentially  the  same. 

(I.)  Conceptions  ditfcr  from  the  ordinary  sensatioa« 
and  perceptions  in  this  respect,  that  both  their  causes  and 
their  objects  are  absent.  When  the  rose,  the  honeysuckle^ 
or  other  odoriferous  body  is  presented  to  us,  the  eflcct 
which  follows  in  the  mind  is  termed  a  sensation.  When 
rre  af;erward  think  of  that  sensation,  (as  we  sometimes 
express  it,)  when  the  sensation  is  recalled,  even  though 
veiy  miperfectly,  without  the  object  wdiich  originally 
caused  it  being  present,  it  then  becomes,  by  the  use  of 
language,  a  conception.  And  it  is  the  same  in  any  in- 
stance of  perception.  When,  in  strictness  of  speech,  we 
are  said  to  perceive  anything,  as  a  tree,  a  building,  or  a 
mountain,  the  objects  of  our  perceptions  are  in  all  cases 
before  us.  But  w^e  may  form  conceptions  of  them ;  they 
may  be  recalled  and  exist  in  the  mind's  eye,  however 
remote  they  may  be  in  fact,  both  in  time  and  place. 

(II.)  They  differ  also  from  remembrances  or  ideas  of 
memory.  We  take  no  account  of  the  period  when  those 
objects  which  laid  the  foundation  of  them  were  present : 
whereas,  in  every  act  of  the  memory,  there  is  combined 
with  the  conception  a  notion  of  the  past.  Hence,  as 
those  states  of  mind,  which  w^e  call  conceptions,  possess 
these  distinctive  marks,  they  are  well  entitled  to  a  sep- 
arate name. 

Conceptions  are  regulated  in  their  appearance  and  dis- 
appearance by  the  principles  of  Association,  which  wull 
be  explained  hereafter. — Whenever  at  any  time  we  may 
use  the  phrase  "power  of  conception"  or  "faculty  of 
conception,"  nothing  more  is  to  be  understood  by  such 
ex|iressions  than  this,  that  there  is  in  the  mind  a  suscepti- 
bihty  of  feelings  or  ideas  possessing  the  marks  which  we, 
have  ascribed  to  t)iis  class. 

(j  60.  Of  conceptions  of  objects  of  sight. 

One  of  the  striking  facts  in  regard  to  our  conceptioas 
is,  that  we  can  far  more  easily  conceive  of  the  objects  o! 
some  senses  than  of  others.  He  who  has  visited  the  Pyr- 
amids of  Egypt  and  the  imposing  remains  of  Grecian 
temples,  or  has  beheld,  among  nature's  sti)'  greater  w^oiks. 


CUNCEPflONS.  76 

Uje  towering  heiglUs  of  the  Alps  an  d  the  m  ghty  cataract 
of  Niagara,  will  never  afterward  be  at  a  loss  in  forming 
a  vivid  conception  of  those  interesting  objects.  The  vis- 
ual perceptions  are  so  easily  and  so  distinctly  recalled, 
that  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  of  them,  that  they  seem 
to  exist  as  permanent  pictures  in  the  mind.  It  is  related 
of  Carsten  Niebuhr,  a  well-known  traveller  in  the  East, 
that,  in  extreme  old  age,  after  he  had  become  blind,  he 
entertained  his  visiters  with  interesting  details  of  wdiat  he 
had  seen  many  years  before  at  Persepohs ;  describing  the 
walls  on  w'hich  the  inscriptions  and  bas-reliefs  of  which 
he  spoke  were  found,  just  as  one  w^ould  describe  a  build- 
ing which  he  had  recently  visited.  His  son,  w'ho  has 
given  an  account  of  his  life,  remarks,  in  connexion  with 
this  fact :  "  We  could  not  conceal  our  astonishment.  He 
said  to  us,  that,  as  he  lay  blind  upon  his  bed,  the  images 
of  all  that  he  had  seen  in  the  East  were  ever  present  to 
his  soul ;  and  it  was  therefore  no  wonder  that  he  should 
speak  of  them  as  of  yesterday.  In  like  manner,  there  was 
vividly  reflected  to  him,  in  the  hours  of  stillness,  the  noc- 
turnal view  of  the  deep  Asiatic  heavens,  wath  their  brill- 
iant host  of  stars,  wdiich  he  had  so  often  contemplated  ; 
or  else  their  blue  and  lofty  vault  by  day ;  and  this  was 
his  greatest  enjoyment." 

There  seems  to  be  less  vividness  in  the  conceptions  of 
sound,  touch,  taste,  and  smell ;  particularly  the  last  three. 
Every  one  knows  that  it  is  difficult  in  ordinaiy  cases  to 
recall  with  much  distinctness  a  particular  pain  which  we 
have  formerly  experienced,  or  a  particular  taste,  or  smell 
The  fact  that  the  perceptions  of  sight  are  more  easily  and 
distinctly  recalled  than  others,  may  be  thus  partially  ex 
plained. — Visible  objects,  or,  rather,  the  outlines  of  them, 
are  complex ;  that  is,  they  are  made  up  of  a  great  num- 
ber of  points  or  very  small  portions.  Hence  the  concep- 
tion which  w^e  &rm  of  such  an  object  as  a  whole,  i» 
aided  by  the  principles  of  association.  The  reason  is 
obvious.  As  every  original  perception  of  a  visible  object 
is  a  compound  made  up  of  many  parts,  whenever  we 
subsequently  have  a  conception  of  it,  the  process  is  the 
same ;  w^e  have  a  conception  of  a  part  of  the  object,  and 
the  princiides  of  association  help  us  in  conceiving  of  ihe 


76  CONCEPTIONS. 

Other  paits.  Association  connects  the  parts  togethei ,  ii 
presents  them  to  the  mind  in  their  proper  arrangement, 
and  hel})s  to  sustain  them  there. 

We  are  not  equally  aided  by  the  laws  of  association 
in  forming  our  conceptions  of  the  objects  of  the  other 
senses.  When  we  think  of  some  sound,  taste,  touch,  ox 
smell,  the  object  of  our  conception  is  either  a  single  de- 
<  ached  sensation  or  a  series  of  sensations.  In  every  such 
detached  sensation  of  sound,  taste,  touch,  or  smell,  whethei 
we  consider  it  at  its  first  origin,  or  when  it  is  subsequently 
recalled,  there  is  not  necessarily  that  fixed  and  intimate 
association  of  the  parts  which  we  suppose  to  exist  in 
every  visual  perception,  and  which  must  exist  also  in 
every  conception  of  objects  of  sight  which  subsequently 
takes  place.  Accordingly,  om-  conceptions  of  the  latter  ob- 
jects arise  more  readily,  and  are  more  distinct,  than  of  the 
others. — There  is  a  greater  readiness  and  distinctness  also, 
when  there  is  a  series  of  sensations  and  perceptions  of 
sight,  for  the  subsequent  visual  conceptions  are  aided  by 
associations  both  in  time  and  place ;  but  the  recurrence 
of  other  sensations  and  perceptions  is  aided  only  by  asso- 
«:iations  in  time. 

Ij  61.  Of  the  influence  of  habit  on  our  conceptions. 

It  is  another  circumstance  worthy  of  notice  in  regard 
to  conceptions,  that  the  power  of  forming  them  depends 
'in  some  measure  on  habit. — A  few  instances  will  help  to 
illustrate  the  statement,  that  what  is  termed  Habit  may 
extend  to  the  susceptibility  of  conceptions ;  and  the  first 
to  be  given  will  be  of  conceptions  of  sound.  Our  con- 
ceptions of  sound  are  not,  in  general,  remarkably  distinct, 
as  was  intimated  in  the  last  section.  It  is  nevertheless 
true,  that  a  person  may  by  practice  acquire  the  power  of 
amusing  himself  with  merely  reading  written  music. 
Having  frequently  associated  the  sounds  with  the  notes, 
he  has  at  last  such  a  strong  conception  of  the  sounds, 
that  he  experiences,  by  merely  reading  the  notes,  a  very 
sensible  pleasure.  It  is  for  the  same  reason,  viz.,  because 
our  conceptions  are  strengthened  by  repetition  or  practice, 
that  readers  may  enjoy  the  harmony  of  poetical  numbers 
xvithout  at  all  articulating  the  words.     In  botl'  ■"  'ses  the) 


CONCEPTIONS.  '  77 

truly  hear  nothing  ;  there  is  no  actual  sensation  of  soand; 
and  yet  there  is  a  virtual  enunciation  and  melody  in  the 
mind.  It  seems  to  be  on  this  principle  we  are  enabled  to 
explain  the  fact,  that  Beethoven  composed  some  of  liis 
most  valued  musical  pieces  after  he  had  become  entirely 
deaf;  originating  harmonic  combinations  so  profound  and 
exquisite  as  to  require  the  nicest  ear  as  a  test,  at  the  very 
tune  he  was  unable  to  hear  anytliing  himself. 

^  G2.  Influence  of  habit  on  conceptions  of  sight. 

That  our  power  of  forming  conceptions  is  strengthen- 
ed by  habit,  is  capable  of  being  further  illustrated  from 
the  sight.  A  person  who  has  been  accustomed  to  draw- 
ing, retains  a  much  more  perfect  notion  of  a  building 
landscape,  or  other  visible  object,  than  one  who  has  not 
A  portrait  painter,  or  any  person  who  has  been  in  the 
practice  of  dra^\^ng  such  sketches,  can  trace  the  outlines 
of  the  human  form  with  very  great  ease;  it  requires 
hardly  more  effort  from  them  than  to  write  their  names. 
— This  point  may  also  be  illustrated  by  the  difference 
w^hich  we  sometimes  notice  in  people  in  their  conceptions 
of  colours.  Some  are  fully  sensible  of  the  difference  be- 
tween two  colours  v/hen  they  are  presented  to  them,  but 
cannot  with  confidence  give  names  to  these  colours  when 
they  see  them  apart,  and  may  even  confound  the  one  with 
the  other.  Their  orig-inal  sensations  and  perceptions  are 
supposed  to  be  equally  distinct  with  those  of  other  per- 
sons ;  but  their  subsequent  conception  of  the  colours  is 
far  from  being  so.  This  defect  arises  partly,  at  leasts 
from  want  of  practice ;  that  is  to  say,  from  the  not  hav- 
ing formed  a  habit.  The  persons  who  exhibit  this  weak- 
ness of  conception  have  not  been  compelled,  by  their  sit- 
uation nor  by  mere  inclination,  to  distinguish  and  to 
name  colours  so  much  as  is  common. 

<)  63.  (/f  the  subserviency  of  our  conceptions  to  description. 

It  is  highly  favourable  to  the  talent  for  lively  descrip- 
tion, when  a  person's  conceptions  are  readily  suggested 
and  are  distinct.  Even  such  a  one's  common  conversa- 
tion differs  from  that  of  those  whose  conceptions  arise 
more  slowly  and  are  more  faint.  One  majj,  whether  iu 
G2 


!B  CONCEPTIONL'. 

conversation  or  in  written  description,  seemj  to  place  the 
object  which  he  wishes  to  describe  directly  hefore  us ;  it 
is  represented  distinctly  and  to  the  life.  Another,  al- 
though not  wanting  in  a  command  of  language,  is  con- 
fused and  embarrassed  amid  a  multitude  of  particulars, 
which,  in  consequence  of  the  feebleness  of  his  concep- 
tions, he  finds  himself  but  half  acquainted  with ;  and  he 
tlierefore  gives  us  but  a  very  imperfect  and  confused  no 
tion  of  tiie  thing  which  he  desires  to  make  known. 

It  has  been  iDy  some  supposed,  that  a  person  might 
giv'e  a  happier  description  of  an  edifice,  of  a  landscape, 
or  other  object,  from  the  conception  than  from  the  actual 
perception  of  it.  The  perfection  of  a  description  does 
not  always  consist  in  a  minute  specification  of  circuni' 
stances ;  in  general,  the  description  is  better  when  therfe 
is  a  judicious  selection  of  them.  The  best  rule  for  ma- 
king the  selection  is  to  attend  to  the  particulars  that  make 
the  deepest  impression  on  our  own  minds,  or,  what  is  the 
same  thing,  that  most  readily  and  distinctly  take  a  place 
in  our  conceptions. — "When  the  object  is  actually  before 
us,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  compare  the  impressions 
which  different  circumstances  produce.  When  we  after- 
ward conceive  of  the  object,  we  possess  merely  the  out- 
line of  it ;  but  it  is  an  outline  made  up  of  the  most  stri- 
king circumstances.  The  circumstances,  it  is  true,  will  not 
impress  all  persons  alike,  but  will  somewhat  vary  with 
the  degree  of  their  taste.  But  when,  with  a  correct  and 
delicate  taste,  any  one  combines  lively  conceptions,  and 
gives  a  description  from  those  conceptions,  he  can  hardly 
fail  to  succeed  in  it.  And,  accordingly,  we  find  here  one 
great  element  of  poetic  power.  It  is  the  ability  of  form- 
ing vivid  conceptions  which  bodies  forth 

"  The  forms  of  things  unknown  ;  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  shape,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

9  64.   Of  conceptions  attended  with  a  momentary  belief. 

Odf  conceptions  are  sometimes  attended  with  belief 
ViJ,  en  they  are  very  lively,  we  are  apt  to  ascribe  to  them 
a  real  outward  existence,  or  believe  in  them.     W(!  do 
not  undertake  to  assert  that  the  belief  is  permanent;  hul 


CONCEPTIONS.  79 

a  nuinbcr  of  facts  strongly  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  ii 
has  a  momentary  existence. 

(1.)  A  painter,  in  drawing  the  features  and  bodily  form 
of  an  absent  friend,  may  have  so  strong  a  conception,  so 
vivid  a  mental  picture,  as  to  believe  for  a  moment  that  his 
friend  is  before  him.  After  carefully  recalling  his  thoughts 
at  such  times,  and  reflecting  upon  them,  almost  every  paint- 
er is  ready  to  say  that  he  has  experienced  some  illusions  of 
this  kind.  "We  read,"  says  Dr.  Conolly,  "  that,  when 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  after  being  many  hours  occupied  in 
painting,  walked  out  into  the  street,  the  lamp-posts  seem- 
ed to  him  to  be  trees,  and  the  men  and  women  moving 
shrubs."  It  is  true,  the  illusion  is  in  these  cases  very 
short,  because  the  intensity  of  conception,  Avhich  is  the 
foundation  of  it,  can  never  be  kept  up  long  when  the 
mind  is  in  a  sound  state.  Such  intense  conceptions  are 
unnatural.  And,  further,  all  the  surrounding  objects  of 
perception,  which  no  one  can  altogether  disregard  for  any 
length  of  time,  tend  to  check  the  illusion  and  terminate  it. 

(2.)  When  a  blow  is  aimed  at  any  one,  although  in 
CDort,  and  he  fully  knows  it  to  be  so,  he  forms  so  vivid  a 
conception  of  what  might  possibly  be  the  effect,  that  his 
belief  is  for  a  moment  controlled,  and  he  unavoidably 
shrinks  back  from  it.  This  is  particularly  the  case  if  the 
blow  approaches  the  eye.  Who  can  help  winking  at 
such  times  1  It  is  a  proof  of  our  belief  being  controlled 
under  such  circumstances,  that  we  can  move  our  own 
hands  rapidly  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  eye,  either 
perpendicularly  or  horizontally  ;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
easily  keep  our  eyelids  from  motion.  But  when  the  mo- 
tion is  made  by  another,  the  conception  becomes  more" 
vivid,  and  a  belief  of  danger  inevitably  arises, — Again, 
place  a  person  on  the  battlements  of  a  high  tower ;  hia 
reason  tells  him  he  is  in  no  danger ;  he  knows  he  is  in 
none.  But,  after  all,  he  is  unable  to  look  down  from  the 
battlements  without  fear ;  his  conceptions  are  so  exceed- 
ingly vivid  as  to  induce  a  momentary  belief  of  danger 
in  opposition  to  all  his  reasonings. 

(3.)  When  we  are  in  pain  from  having  struck  our  foe. 
aeainst  a  stone,  or  when  pain  is  suddenly  caused  in  us  bj 
any  other  inanimate  obje-^t,  we  are  apt  to  vent  a  raomenc' 


80  CONCEPTIONS. 

ary  rage  upon  it  That  is  to  say,  our  belief  is  so  afTec*^ 
ed  for  an  instant,  that  we  ascribe  to  it  an  accountable  ex- 
iiJtence,  and  would  punish  it  accordingly.  This  is  ob- 
served })articularly  in  children  aid  in  Savages.  It  is  on 
the  principle  of  our  vivid  conceptions  being  attendecj 
with  belief,  that  poets  so  often  ascribe  life,  and  agency 
and  intention  to  the  rain  and  winds,  to  storms,  and  thun- 
der and  lightning.  How  natural  are  the  expressions  of 
King  Lear,  overwhelmed  with  the  ingratitude  of  hia 
daughters,  and  standing  witli  lis  old  head  bared  to  tb<* 
p«,'lting  tempest ! 

"  Nor  rain,  wind,  thunder,  fire  are  my  daughters  ;  * 

I  tax  not  you,  ye  elements,  with  univindness  ; 
I  never  gave  you  kingdoms,  called  you  children." 

(^4.)  There  are  persons  who  are  entirely  convinced  ol 
the  folly  of  the  popular  belief  of  ghosts  and  other  night- 
ly apparitions,  but  who  cannot  be  persuaded  to  sleep  in 
a  room  alone,  nor  go  alone  into  a  room  in  the  dark. 
Whenever  they  happen  cut  at  night,  they  are  constantly 
looking  on  every  side ;  their  quickened  perceptions  beholO 
images,  which  never  had  any  existence  except  in  their 
own  minds,  and  they  are  the  subjects  of  continual  dis- 
quiet and  even  terror. — "  It  was  my  misfortune,"  says  Di 
Priestly,  "  to  have  the  idea  of  darloiess,  and  the  ideas  of 
invisible  malignant  spirits  and  apparitions  very  closely 
connected  in  my  infancy ;  and  to  this  day,  notwithstand- 
ing I  believe  nothing  of  those  invisible  powers,  and,  con- 
sequently, of  their  connexion  with  darkness,  or  anything 
else,  I  cannot  be  perfectly  easy  in  every  kind  of  situation 
in  the  dark,  though  I  am  sensible  I  gain  ground  upon 
"ihis  prejudice  continually." 

In  all  such  cases  we  see  the  influence  of  the  prejudices 
of  the  nursery.  Persons  w-ho  are  thus  afflicted  were 
taught  in  early  childhood  to  form  conceptions  of  ghosts, 
visible  hobgoblins,  and  unearthly  spirits ;  and  the  habit 
still  continues.  It  is  true,  when  they  listen  to  their  rea- 
sonings and  philosophy,  they  may  well  say  they  do  not 
beheve  in  such  things.  But  the  effect  of  their  philoso- 
phy is  merely  to  check  their  belief;  not  in  ten  cases  in  a 
tliOHsand  is  the  belief  entirely  overcome.     Every  little 

bile,  in  all  solitaiy  places,  and  esoecially  in  the  daik,  i' 


CONCEPTIONS.  81 

returns,  and,  when  banished,  returns  again  ;  otherwise  w« 
cannot  give  an  explanation  of  the  conduct  of  these  poi- 
Eons 

^  65.  Conceptions  which  arc  joined  with  perceptions. 

The  behef  in  our  mere  conceptions  is  the  more  evi- 
dent and  striking  whenever  at  any  time  they  are  joined 
with  our  perceptions. — A  person,  for  instance,  is  walking 
in  a  field  in  a  foggy  morning,  and  perceives  something, 
no  matter  what  it  is ;  but  he  believes  it  to  be  a  man,  and 
does  not  doubt  it.  In  other  words,  he  truly  perceives 
some  object,  and,  in  addition  to  that  perception,  has  a 
mental  conception  of  a  man,  attended  with  belief.  When 
he  has  advanced  a  few  feet  further,  all  at  once  he  per- 
ceives that  what  he  conceived  to  be  a  man  is  merely  a 
stump  w^ith  a  few  stones  piled  on  its  top.  He  perceived 
at  first,  as  plainly  or  but  little  short  of  it,  that  it  was  a 
stump,  as  in  a  moment  afterward ;  there  were  the  whole 
time  very  nearly  the  same  visible  form  and  the  same  di- 
mensions in  his  eye.  But  he  had  the  conception  of  a 
man  in  his  mind  at  the  same  moment,  which  overruled 
and  annulled  the  natural  effects  of  the  visual  perception ; 
the  conception,  being  associated  with  the  present  visible 
object,  acquired  peculiar  strength  and  permanency ;  so 
much  so,  that  he  truly  and  firmly  believed  that  a  h\iman 
being  was  before  him.  But  the  conception  has  departed  ; 
the  present  object  of  perception  has  taken  its  place,  and 
it  is  now  impossible  for  him  to  conjure  up  the  phantom, 
the  reality  of  which  he  but  just  now  had  no  doubt  of. 

One  of"  the  numerous  characters  whom  Sir  Walter 
Scott  has  ske^^ched  with  so  much  truth  to  nature,  speaks 
of  himself  as  being  banished,  on  a  certain  occasion,  to- 
one  of  the  sandy  Keys  of  the  West  Indies,  which  was  re- 
pu<:ed  to  be  inhabited  by  malignant  demons.  This  per- 
son, after  acknowledging  he  had  his  secret  apprehensions 
upon  their  account,  remarks,  '"^  In  open  daylight  or  in  ab- 
solute darkness  I  did  not  greatly  apprenend  their  ap- 
proach; but  in  the  misty  dawn  of  the  morning,  or  when 
evening  was  about  to  fall,  I  saw,  ibr  the  first  week  of  my 
abode  on  the  Key,  many  a  dim  i-»n4  undefined  spectre  j 
oow    resem.bling   a    Span.^erd.  •'vi+b  his    r.^pa  \^rippe«} 


b-3?  CONCEPTIONS. 

aroLnd  him,  Mid  his  nuge  sombrera,  as  large  as  an  um- 
brella, upon  his  head ;  now  a  Dutch  sailor,  with  his  rough 
cap  and  trunk  hose ;  and  now  an  Indian  Cacique,  with 
his  feathery  crown  and  long  lance  of  cane.  I  always 
approached  them,  but,  whenever  I  drew  near,  the  phantom 
changed  into  a  bush,  or  a  piece  cif  driftwood,  or  a  wreath 
of  mist,  or  some  such  cause  of  deception." 

But  it  is  unnecessary  to  resort  to  books  for  illustratioas 
of  this  topic.  Multitudes  of  persons  have  a  conceptive 
facility  of  creations,  which  is  often  troublesome  and  per- 
plexing; especially  in  uncommon  situations,  and  in  the 
night.  And  in  all  cases  this  tendency  is  greatly  strength- 
ened, w^henever  it  can  lay  hold  of  objects,  the  outlines 
of  which  it  can  pervert  to  its  own  purposes. — In  instari- 
ces  of  this  kind,  where  the  conceptions  are  upheld,  as  it 
were,  by  present  objects  of  perception,  and  receive  a  sort 
of  permanency  from  them,  nothing  is  better  known  than 
that  we  often  exercise  a  strong  and  unhesitating  belief. 
These  instances,  therefore,  can  properly  be  considered  as 
illustrating  and  confirming  the  views  in  the  preceding 
section. 

^  68.  Conceptions  as  connected  wiih  fictitious  representations 

These  observations  suggest  an  explanation,  at  least  m 
part,  of  the  effects  which  are  produced  on  the  mind  by 
exhibitions  of  fictitious  distress.  In  the  representation 
of  tragedies,  for  instance,  it  must  be  admitted,  that  there 
is  a  general  conviction  of  the  whole  being  but  a  fiction. 
But,  although  persons  enter  the  theatre  with  this  general 
conviction,  "it  does  not  always  remain  Vv'ith  them  the 
whole  time.  At  certain  peculiarly  interesting  passages 
in  the  poet,  and  at  certain  exhibitions  of  powerful  and 
well-timed  effort  in  the  actor,  this  general  impression,  that 
Skll  is  a  fiction,  fails.  The  feelings  of  the  spectator  may 
be  said  to  rush  into  the  scenes ;  he  mingles  in  the  events  • 
carried  away  and  lost,  he  for  a  moment  believes  all  to  be 
real,  and  the  tears  gush  at  the  catastrophe  which  he  wit- 
nesses. The  explanation,  therefore,  of  the  emotions  felt 
at  the  exhibition  of  a  tragedy,  such  as  indignation,  pit^', 
and  abhorrence,  is,  that  at  certain  parts  of  .he  exhibition 
w<?  have  a  momentary  belief  in  the  reality  of  tVe  events 


SIMPLICITY    ANi)    COMPLEXNESS    C7    ME^TAL    STATES.      S3 

^'hich  are  represented.  And  after  the  illustrations  whicb 
nave  been  given,  such  a  belief  cannot  be  considered  im« 
possible. — The  same  explanation  will  apply  to  the  emo- 
tions which  follow  our  reading  of  tragedies  when  alone, 
or  any  other  natural  and  affecting  descriptions  In  the 
world  of  conceptions  which  the  genius  of  the  writer 
conjures  up,  we  are  transported  out  of  the  world  of  real 
existence,  and  for  a  while  fully  believe  in  the  reality  of 
what  is  only  an  incantation. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SIMPLICITY    AND    COMPLEXNESS   OF   MENTAL    STATES 
^  C7.  Origin  of  the  distinction  of  simple  and  complex. 

In  looking  at  our  thoughts  and  feelings,  as  they  con- 
tinually pass  under  the  review  of  our  internal  observation, 
we  readily  perceive  that  they  are  not  of  equal  worth  3  we 
do  not  assign  to  them  the  same  estimate ;  one  state  of 
m)nd  is  found  to  be  expressive  of  one  thing  only,  and  that 
thing,  whatever  it  is,  is  precise,  and  definite,  and  insep- 
arable ;  while  another  state  of  mind  is  found  to  be  ex- 
pressive of,  and  virtually  equal  to,  many  others.  And 
hence  we  are  led,  not  only  with  the  utmost  propriety,  but 
even  by  a  sort  of  necessity,  to  make  a  division  of  the 
whole  body  of  our  mental  affections  into  the  two  classes' 
of  snviPLE  and  complex.  Nature  herself  makes  the  divis 
\on ;  it  is  one  of  those  characteristics  which  gives  to  the 
mind,  in  part  at  least,  its  greatness ;  one  of  those  elements 
of  power,  without  which  the  soul  could  not  be  what  it  is, 
and  without  a  knowledge  of  which  it  is  difficult  to  pos- 
sess a  full  and  coiTect  understanding  of  it  in  other  respects. 

^  68.  Nature  and  characteristics  of  simple  mental  states. 

We  shall  first  offer  some  remarks  on  those  mental  states 
^hich  are  simple,  and  shall  aim  to  give  an  understanding 
of  their  nature,  so  far  as  can  be  expected  on  a  subject, 
the  clearness  of  which  depends  more  on  a  reference  to 


^4  SIMPLICITY    AND    COMPl  EXNESS 

our  owii  personal  consciousness  than  on  the  leii<^hiivgs  ol 
others. 

Let  it  be  noticed  then,  in  the  first  place,  that  a  simple 
idea  cannot  be  separated  into  parts. — It  is  cleariy  im- 
phed  in  the  very  distinction  between  simplicity  and  com- 
plexity, considered  in  relation  to  the  states  of  the  mind, 
that  there  can  be  no  such  separation,  no  such  division.  It 
AS  emphatically  true  of  our  simple  ideas  and  emotions,  and 
I  r  all  other  simple  states  of  the  mind,  that  they  are  one 
aid  indivisible.  Whenever  you  can  detect  in  them  moie 
thAH  one  element,  they  at  once  lose  their  character  of 
simplicity,  and  are  to  be  regarded  as  complex,  however 
they  may  have  previously  appeared.  Inseparableness 
consequently  is  their  striking  characteristic ;  and  it  may 
be  added,  that  they  are  not  only  inseparable  in  them- 
selves, but  are  separate  from  everything  else.  There  is 
nothing  which  can  stand  as  a  substitute  for  them  where 
they  are,  or  represent  them  where  they  are  not ;  they  are 
mdependent  unities,  constituted  exclusively  by  the  mind 
itself,  having  a  specific  and  positive  character,  but  never 
theless  known  only  in  themselves. 

()  69.  Simple  mental  states  not  susceptible  of  definition. 

Let  it  be  observed,  in  the  second  place,  that  our  simple 
notions  cannot  be  defined, — This  view  of  them  follows 
necessarily  from  what  has  been  said  of  their  oneness  and 
inseparableness,  compared  with  what  is  universally  un- 
derstood by  defining.  Li  respect  to  definitions,  it  is  un- 
doubtedly true,  that  we  sometimes  use  synonymous  words, 
and  call  such  use  a  definition ;  but  it  is  not  properly  such. 
In  every  legitimate  definition,  the  idea  which  is  to  be  de- 
fined is  to  be  separated,  as  far  as  may  be  thought  neces- 
sary, into  its  subordinate  parts ;  and  these  parts  are  to  be 
presented  to  the  mind  for  its  examination,  instead  of  the 
original  notion  into  which  they  entered.  This  process 
must  be  gone  through  in  every  instance  of  accurate  de- 
fining ;  this  is  the  general  and  authorized  view  of  defini- 
tion ;  and  it  is  not  easy  to  see  in  what  else  it  can  well 
consist. 

But  this  process  will  not  apjily  to  our  simple  tlioughts 
wid  feelings,  because,  if  there  l;e  any  such  thing  as  sini 


UF    MENJAl.    STATES,  86 

pie  menial  stales,  they  are  characterized  by  iiistiparable 
ness  and  oneness.  And  furthermore,  if  we  define  idea." 
by  employing  other  ideas,  Ave  must  count  upon  raectin<» 
at  last  with  such  as  shall  be  ultimate,  and  will  rejecc  all 
verbal  explanation ;  otherwise  we  can  never  come  to  an 
end  in  the  process. — So  that  the  simple  menial  affections 
are  not  only  undefinable  in  themselves ;  but  if  there  were 
no  such  elementary  states  of  mind,  there  could  be  no  de- 
fining in  any  other  case ;  it  would  be  merely  analysis 
upon  analysis,  a  process  without  completion,  and  a  labour 
without  end ;  leaving  the  subject  in  as  much  darkness  a* 
when  the  process  was  begun. 

When  we  speak  of  simple  ideas  and  feelings,  and  <• 
pei"son,  in  consequence  of  our  inability  to  define  them, 
professes  to  be  ignorant  of  the  terms  we  use,  we  can  fre- 
quently aid  him  in  understanding  them  by  a  statement 
of  the  circumstances,  as  far  as  possible,  under  which  the 
sunple  mental  state  exists.  But  having  done  this,  we  can 
merely  refer  him  to  his  own  senses  and  consciousness,  as 
the  only  teachers  from  which  he  can  expect  to  receivp 
satisfaction. 

^  70.  Simple  mental  states  representative  of  a  reality. 

A  third  mark  or  characteristic  of  simple  mental  stales 
Ls,  that  they  always  stand  for  or  represent  a  reality.- 
In  other  woids,  no  simple  idea  is,  in  its  own  nature,  de- 
lusive or  fictitious,  but  always  has  something  precisely 
corresponding  to  it. — It  is  not  always  so  with  complex 
ideas ;  these,  as  Mr.  Locke  justly  gives  us  to  understand, 
are  sometimes  chi.merical.  That  is  to  say;  the  elements 
of  which  they  are  t^^omposed  are  so  brought  together  and 
combined  as  to  lorra  something,  of  which  nature  presents 
no  corresponding  reality.  If.  for  instance,  a  person  had 
En  idea  of  a  body,  yellow,  or  of  some  other  colour,  malle- 
ubl  2.;  fixed ;  possessing,  in  a  word,  all  the  qualities  of  iron 
or  of  gold,  with  this  difference  only,  of  its  being  lightei 
than  water,  it  would  be  what  Mr.  Locke  terms  a  ciioier- 
.'CAL  idea ;  because  the  combination  of  the  elements  her? 
exists  only  in  the  human  mind,  and  not  in  nature ;  the 
thing  has  no  outward  or  objective  reality.  The  words 
CKNTAUR,  dragon,  and  hypogripf,  which   are  ihr-  wcW 

H 


86  SiMl'LICITV   Al^d    COMFI.EXNESS 

knoMTi  iia  nes  for  imaginary  oelngs  possessing  nc  Actua 
existen 36,  are  expressive  of  chimerial  complex  ideas 
These  ideas  have  nothing  corresponding  to  them.  But  it 
is  not  so  with  the  simple  states  of  the  mind.  If  it  were 
otherwise,  since  in  our  inquiries  after  truth  we  naturally 
proceed  from  what  is  complex  to  what  is  simple,  there 
would  be  no  sure  foundation  of  knowledge.  Whenever, 
sn  our  analysis  of  a  subject,  we  arrive  at  truly  simple 
ideas,  we  have  firm  footing ;  there  is  no  mistake,  no  de- 
lusion- Nature,  always  faithful  to  her  own  character, 
gives  utterance  to  the  truth  alone.  But  man,  in  combi- 
nin(>"  too-ether  the  elements  which  nature  furnishes,  does 

3D..  ' 

not  always  avoid  mistakes. 

>5  71.   Origin  of  complex  notions,  and  their  relation  to  simple. 

Our  simple  states  of  mind,  which  we  have  thus  endeav 
cured  to  explain,  were  probably  first  in  origin.  There  are 
reasons  for  considering  them  as  antecedent  in  point  of 
time  to  our  complex  mental  states,  although  in  many  cases 
it  may  not  be  easy  to  trace  the  progress  of  the  mind  from 
the  one  to  the  other.  The  complex  notions  of  externa) 
material  objects  embrace  the  separate  and  simple  notions 
of  resistance,  extension,  hardness,  colour,  taste,  and  others. 
As  these  elementary  perceptions  evidently  have  their  ori- 
gin in  distinct  and  separate  senses,  it  is  but  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  they  possess  a  simple,  before  they  are  com- 
bined together  in  a  complex  existence.  Simple  ideas, 
therefore,  may  justly  be  regarded  as  antecedent,  in  point 
of  time,  to  those  which  are  complex,  and  as  laying  the 
foundation  of  them. 

Hence  we  see  that  it  is  sufficiently  near  the  truth,  and 
that  it  is  not  improper,  to  speak  of  our  complex  ideas  as 
derived  from,  or  made  up  of,  simple  ideas.  Tliis  is  the 
well-known  language  of  Mr.  Locke  on  this  subject ;  and 
when  we  consider  how  much  foundation  there  is  for  it  in 
die  constitution  and  operatioas  of  the  human  mind,  there 
IS  good  reason  for  retaining  it. — Although  purely  simple 
states  of  the  mind  are  few  in  number,  vast  multitudes  of 
a  complex  nature  are  formed  from  them.  The  ability 
vhich  the  mind  possesses  of  originating  complex  thoughts 
wid  feelings  from  eleraentaiy  ones,  may  be  compared  t» 


OF   MENTAL    STATES.-  8*? 

»ur  pi>wer  of  uniting  together  the  letters  of  the  alphabet 
in  the  formation  of  syllables  and  words. 

^  72.   Supposed  ct.mpiexness  without  the  antecedence  ol  simple  feeliug*. 

It  is  possible  that  some  persons  may  object  to  the  doc- 
trine proposed  in  the  last  section,  that  complex  mental 
states  arc  subsequent  in  point  of  time  to  those  which  are 
simple ;  and  may  be  inclined  to  adopt  the  opinion,  that 
«ome,  at  least,  of  our  complex  notions  are  framed  at  once 
and  immediately,  whenever  an  occasion  presents  itself, 
and  are  not  necessarily  dependent  on  the  prior  existence 
of  any  other  feelings.  When  the  eye,  for  instance,  opens 
on  a  wide  and  diversified  landscape,  they  suppose  the 
whole  to  be  embraced  in  one  complex  mental  state,  the 
formation  of  which  is  not  gradual  and  susceptible  of 
measurement  by  time,  but  is  truly  instantaneous.  When 
we  direct  our  attention  to  objects  of  less  extent,  as  a  por- 
trait, a  landscape,  or  historical  painting,  they  imagine  it 
to  be  still  more  evident,  that  the  complexity  of  mind,  cor- 
responding to  the  complexity  of  the  object,  is  a  result 
without  any  antecedent  process.  Without  doubt,  what 
has  now  been  said  is,  in  some  instances,  apparently  the 
case ;  but  this  appearance  (for  we  cannot  speak  of  it  as 
anjihing  more  than  such)  is  susceptible  of  an  obvious  ex- 
planation, without  an  abandonment  of  the  general  princi- 
ple which  has  been  laid  down.  No  one  is  ignorant  that 
the  mind  often  passes  with  exceeding  rapidity  along  the 
successive  objects  of  its  contemplation.  This  rapidity 
may,  in  some  cases,  be  so  great,  that  no  foundation  will 
be  laid  for  remembrance ;  and  of  course,  in  such  cases, 
the  complex  feeling  has  the  appearance  of  being  formed 
without  the  antecedence  of  other  simple  feelings.  Often 
the  eye  glances  so  rapidly  over  the  distinct  parts  of  the 
portrait,  the  historical  painting,  or  even  the  wide  land- 
scape, that  we  are  utterly  unable  in  our  recollection  to 
detect  the  successive  stepa  of  its  progress.  There  natu- 
rally seems,  therefore,  to  be  but  one  vieiv,  instead  cf  dis- 
tinct and  successive  glances  of  the  mind  frojn  hill  to  hill, 
from  forest  to  forest,  and  from  one  verdant  spot  to  an- 
other, prior  to  the  supposed  one  and  instantaneous  com- 
prehension of  the  whole.     But  there  is  rmch  reason  to? 


88  SIMPLICITY    AND   COMPLEXNESS 

saying  that  tliis  oneness  of  comprehension  is  in  seeming 
and  appearance  only,  and  not  in  fact.     (See  §  57,  58.) 

ij  73.  The  precise  sense  in  wliich  coinplexncss  is  to  be  understooi}. 

But  while  we  distinctly  assert  the  frequent  complexness 
of  the  mental  affections,  it  should  be  particularly  kept  in 
mind,  that  they  are  not  to  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a 
material  compound,  where  the  parts,  although  it  may 
sometimes  appear  to  be  otherwise,  necessarily  possess  no 
higher  unity  than  that  of  juxtaposidon,  and,  of  course, 
can  be  literally  separated  from  each  other,  and  then  put 
together  again.  There  is  nothing  of  this  kind  ;  neither 
putting  together  nor  taking  asunder,  in  this  literal  and 
material  sense. — But  if  our  thoughts  and  feelings  are  not 
made  up  of  others,  and  are  not  complex  in  the  material 
sense  of  the  expressions,  what  then  constitutes  their  com- 
plexness 1  This  inquiry  gives  occasion  for  the  impor- 
tant remark,  that  complexness  in  relation  to  the  mind  is 
not  literal,  but  virtual  only.  What  we  term  a  complex 
feeling  is  in  itself  truly  simple,  but  at  the  same  time  it  is 
equal  to  many  others,  and  is  complex  only  in  that  sense. 
Thought  after  thought,  and  emotion  following  emotion, 
passes  through  the  mind  ;  and  as  they  are  called  forth  by 
the  operation  of  the  laws  of  association,  many  of  them 
necessarily  have  relation  to  the  same  object.  Then  there 
follows  a  new  state  of  mind,  which  is  the  result  of  those 
previous  feelings,  and  is  complex  in  the  sense  already  ex- 
plained. That  is  to  say,  it  is  felt  by  us  to  possess  a  vir- 
tual equality  to  liiose  separate  antecedent  thoughts  and 
emotions.  Our  simple  feelings  are  hke  streams  coming 
from  different  mountains,  but  meeting  and  mingling  to- 
gether at  last  in  the  common  centre  of  some  intermediate 
lake ;  the  tributary  fountains  are  no  longer  separable ; 
but  have  disappeared,  and  become  merged  and  confound 
fd  in  the  bosom  of  their  comraoi:  resting-place.  Or  they 
may  be  likened  to  the  cents  and  dimes  of  the  American 
coinage,  tens  and  hundreds  of  which  are  represented  by 
a  single  eagi,e  ;  vmd  yet  the  eagle  is  not  divided  into  a 
hundred  or  thousand  parts,  but  has  as  much  unity  as  the 
numerous  pieces  for  which  it  stand>:. 

The  language  which  expresses   the  composition  and 


OF   MENTAL    STATES  89 

complexity  of  thought  is,  therefore,  to  be  regarded  a^ 
wholly  metaphorical  when  applied  to  the  mind,  and  is 
not  to  be  taken  in  its  literal  meaning.  We  are  under  the 
necessity  of  employing  in  this  case,  as  in  others,  languap-e 
which  has  a  material  origin,  but  we  shall  not  be  led 
astray  by  it  if  we  carefully  attend  to  what  has  been  said, 
and  pndeavour  to  aid  our  conception  of  it  by  a  reference 
to  our  internal  experience. 

^  74.  Illustrations  of  analysis  as  applied  to  the  mind. 

The  subject  of  the  preceding  section  will  be  the  better 
anderstoodby  the  consideration  of  Analysis  as  applicable  to 
the  mind.  As  we  do  not  combine  literally,  so  we  do  not 
mtie  or  separate  literally  ;  as  there  is  no  literal  complex- 
ness,  so  there  is  no  literal  resolution  or  analysis  of  it. 
Nevertheless,  we  have  a  meaning  when  we  speak  of 
analyzing  our  thoughts  and  feelings.  And  what  is  it  ? 
What  are  we  to  understand  by  the  term  analysis  ? 

Although  this  subject  is  not  without  difficulty,  both  in 
the  conception  and  in  the  expression  of  it,  it  is  susceptible 
of  some  degree  of  illustration. — It  will  be  remembered 
that  there  may  be  an  analysis  of  material  bodies.  The 
chemist  analyzes  when  he  takes  a  piece  of  glass,  which 
appears  to  be  one  substance,  and  hnds  that  it  is  not  one, 
but  is  separable  into  silicious  and  alkaline  matter.  He 
takes  other  bodies,  and  separates  them  in  like  manner ; 
and  whenever  he  does  this,  the  process  is  rightly  called 
analysis. 

Now  we  apply  the  same  term  to  the  mind  ;  but  the 
thing  ex^^ressed  by  it,  the  process  gone  through,  is  not 
the  same.  All  we  can  say  is,  there  is  something  like  this. 
We  do  not  resolve  and  separate  a  complex  thought,  as 
we  do  a  piece  of  glass  or  other  material  body,  into  its 
parts ;  we  are  utterly  unable  to  do  it,  if  we  should  se- 
riously make  the  attempt;  every  mental  state  is,  in  itself 
and  in  fact,  simple  and  indivisible,  and  is  complex  only 
rirtially.  Complex  notions  are  the  results  rather  than 
the  compounds  of  former  feelings  ;  and  though  not  liter- 
ally made  up  of  parts,  have  the  relation  to  them  which 
any  material  whole  has  to  the  elements  composhig  it; 
Rnd  in  that  particular  sense  may  be  said  t(»  coramehend 
H  2     " 


9()  ^  SIMPLICITY   AND    COMPI  EXAESS 

or  embrace  the  suuordinate  notions.  Mental  analysis  ac-* 
cordingly  concerns  merely  this  relation.  We  peribrm 
such  an  analysis  when,  by  the  aid  of  our  reflection  and 
consciousness,  we  are  able  to  indicate  those  separate  and 
subordinate  feelings  to  which,  in  our  conception  of  it, 
the  complex  mental  state  is  virtually  equal. 

The  term  government,  for  instance,  when  used  in  ref- 
erence to  the  mental  perception  of  the  thing  thus  named, 
expresses  a  complex  state  of  the  mind  ;  we  may  make 
this  mental  state,  which  is  in  fact  only  one,  although  it  is 
virLually  more  than  one,  a  subject  of  contemplation;  and 
we  are  said  to  analyze  it  when  we  are  able  to  indicate 
those  separate  and  more  elementary  notions,  without  the 
existence  and  antecedence  of  which  it  could  not  have 
been  formed  by  the  mind.  We  do  not  literally  take  the 
complex  state  in  pieces,  but  we  designate  other  states  of 
mind  which,  every  one's  knowledge  of  the  origin  of 
thought  convinces  him,  must  have  preceded  it,  such  as  the 
ideas  of  power,  right,  obligation,  command,  and  the  rela- 
tive notions  of  superior  and  inferior. 

(j  75.  Complex  notions  of  external  origin. 

The  doctrine  of  simplicity  and  complexness  of  mental 
states  is  applicable,  in  both  its  forms,  to  the  Intellective 
and  Sensitive  parts  of  our  nature  ;  in  other  words,  there 
may  be  a  complex  affection  or  passion,  as  well  as  a  com- 
plex perception.  The  acts  of  the  Will,  the  other  great 
Division  of  the  mental  nature,  are  always  simple.  When 
we  consider  the  subject  in  reference  to  the  intellect  alone, 
we  may  add  further,  that  there  is  complexity  of  the  In- 
tellect both  in  its  internal  and  external  action  ;  and  it 
feeras  proper,  in  this  connexion,  to  say  something  in  par- 
licular  of  complex  notions  of  external  origin. 

What  we  term  our  simple  ideas  are  representative  of 
the  parts  of  objects  only.  The  sensations  of  colour,  such 
as  red,  white,  yellow ;  the  original  intimations  from  the 
fo"jch,  such  as  resistance,  extension,  hardness,  and  softness, 
do  not,  in  themselves  considered,  give  us  a  knowledge  of 
substances,  but  only  of  the  parts,  attributes,  or  elements 
of  substances.  Accordingly,  the  ideas  which  we  hav<>  of 
the  various  obiects  of  the  external  world  are.  f  )3"  rhe 


OF    MENTAL    SfATES.  91 

Most  part,  cjiiiplex.  We  speak  of  a  house,  a  tree,  a 
flowei,  a  plant,  a  mineral,  an  animal;  and  in  none  of 
these  cases  are  the  ideas  which  we  have  simple  ;  but.  on 
the  contrary,  embrace  a  considerable  number  of  elements 

(/  76.  Of  objects  contemplated  as  wholes. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  various  external  objects  Vvhich 
come  under  our  notice  are  presented  to  ils  as  wholes; 
and,  as  such,  (whatever  may  have  been  the  original  pro- 
cess leading  to  that  result,)  we  very  early  contemplate 
them. — Take,  for  instance,  a  loadstone  In  their  ordinary 
and  common  thoughts  upon  it,  (the  result  probably  of 
some  antecedent  and  very  early  training),  men  undoubted  - 
ly  contemplate  it  as  a  W'hole ;  the  state  of  mind  which 
has  reference  to  it  embraces  it  as  such.  This  complex 
notion,  like  all  others  which  are  complex,  is  virtually  equal 
to  a  number  of  others  of  a  more  elementary  character. — 
Hence,  when  w'e  are  called  upon  to  give  an  account  of 
the  loadstone,  we  can  retu/n  no  other  answer  than  by  an 
enumeration  of  its  elements.  It  is  something  which  has 
U'eight,  colour,  hardness,  power  to  draw  hron,  and  what- 
ever else  we  discover  in  it. 

We  use  the  term  gold.  This  is  a  complex  term,  and 
implies  a  complexity  in  the  corresponding  mental  state. 
But  if  we  use  the  word  gold,  or  any  other  synonymous 
v>ord,  in  the  hearing  of  a  man  who  has  neither  seen  that 
substance  nor  had  it  explained  to  hun,  he  wall  not  under- 
stand what  is  meant  to  be  conveyed.  We  must  ente** 
mto  an  analysis ;  and  show  that  it  is  a  combination  of 
the  qualities  of  yellowness,  great  w^eight,  fusibility,  duc- 
tility, &c.  We  look  upward  to  the  sun  in  the  heavens. 
But  what  should  we  know^  of  that  great  aggregate,  if  we 
could  not  contemplate  it  in  the  elements  of  form  and  ex- 
ti^.asion,  of  brightness  and  heat,  of  roundness  and  regu- 
larity of  motion  1 — All  the  ideas,  therefore,  which  we 
form  of  external  objects  considered  as  wholes,  are  com- 
plex; and  all  such  complex  notions  are  compces<l  of 
those  which  are  simole. 


ifZ  ABSTRACTION 


CHAPTER  X 

ABSTRACTION 

^  '37.  Abstraciion  implied  in  the  analysis  of  ccmp'.es  ideis 

The  remarks  which  have  been  made  in  the  course  ol 
the  foregoing  chapter,  on  the  analysis  and  examinatioa 
of  our  Complex  Intellectual  states,  naturally  lead  to  the 
consideration  of  another  subject,  in  some  respects  inti- 
mately connected  with  that  topic.  When  we  have  once 
formed  a  complex  notion  (no  matter  at  what  period,  in 
what  way,  or  of  what  kind,)  it  not  unfrequently  happens 
that  we  desire,  for  various  reasons,  to  examine  more  par- 
ticularly some  of  its  parts.  Very  frequently  this  is  abso- 
kitely  necessary  to  the  full  understanding  of  it.  Although 
undoubtedly  its  elementary  parts  once  came  under  r<N 
view,  that  time  is  now  long  past ;  it  has  become  impor- 
tant to  institute  a  new  inspection,  to  take  each  simple 
notion  involved  in  it,  and  examine  it  by  itself.  And  tais 
is  done  by  means  of  the  proc^^ss  of  Abstraction,  and  in 
no  other  way. 

By  the  aid  of  that  process,  our  complex  notions,  how* 
ever  comprehensive  they  may  be,  are  susceptible,  if  om- 
may  be  allowed  so  to  speak,  of  being  taken  to  pieces, 
and  the  elementary  parts  may  be  abstracted  or  separated 
from  each  other ;  that  is,  they  are  made  subjects  of  con- 
sideration apart  from  other  ideas,  \s\i\\  which  they  are 
ordinarily  found  to  be  associated.  And  hence,  whenever 
this  is  the  case  in  respect  to  the  states  of  the  mind,  they 
are  sometimes  called  Abstractions,  and  still  more  fre- 
quently are  known  by  the  name  of  abstract  ideas. — ^Foi 
the  purpose  of  distinctness  in  what  we  have  to  say,  they 
may  be  divided  into  the  two  classes  of  Particular  laid 
General ;  that  is  to  say,  in  some  cases  tlie  abstracnon  re- 
lates only  to  a  single  idea  or  element,  in  others  \\  in« 
eludes  more 


kits  FRACTION.  93 

^  '?3      nitaiices  of  particulsr  aiistracl  ideas. 

We  shall  pro  -20(1,  therefore,  to  remark  first  on  Paiticu- 
far  abstractions.  Of  this  class,  the  notions  Avhich  we 
form  of  the  different  kinds  of  colours  may  be  regarded  as 
instances.  For  example,  we  hold  in  our  hand  a  rose ;  it 
has  extension,  colour,  form,  fragrance.  The  mind  is 
60  deeply  occupied  with  the  colour  as  almost  wholly  to 
Qeglect  the  other  qualities.  This  is  a  species  of  abstrao 
tioD,  although  perhaps  an  imperfect  one,  because,  when 
an  object  is  before  us,  it  is  difficult,  in  our  most  attentive 
consideration  of  any  particular  quality  or  property,  to 
witlidraw  the  mind  wholly  from  the  others.  When,  on 
the  contrary,  any  absent  object  of  perception  occure  to  us, 
when  we  think  of  or  form  a  conception  of  it,  our  thoughts 
will  readily  fix  upon  the  colour  of  such  object,  and  make 
that  the  subject  of  consideration,  %\'ithout  particularly 
regarding  its  other  qualities,  such  as  weight,  hardness, 
taste,  form,  &:c.  We  may  also  distinguish  in  any  body 
(either  when  present,  or  still  more  perfectly  when  absent) 
its  solidity  from  its  extension,  or  we  may  direct  om-  atten- 
tion to  its  weight,  or  its  length,  or  breadth,  or  thickness, 
and  make  any  one  of  these  a  distinct  object  in  our  thoughts 

And  hence,  as  it  is  a  Avell-known  fact  that  the  proper- 
ties of  any  body  may  be  separated  in  the  view  and  ex- 
amination of  the  mind,  however  closely  they  may  be  con- 
nected in  their  appropriate  subjects,  we  may  lay  down 
liiis  statement  in  respect  to  the  states  of  the  mind  before 
us,  viz. :  When  any  quality  or  attribute  of  an  object, 
which  does  not  exist  by  itself,  but  in  a  state  of  combina- 
tion, is  detached  by  our  minds  from  its  customaiy  associ- 
ates, and  is  considered  separately,  the  notion  we  form  of 
it  becomes  a  particular  abstract  idea. — ^The  distinctive 
mark  of  this  class  is,  that  the  abstraction  is  limited  to  one 
quality.  It  should  perhaps  be  particularly  added,  that 
the  abstraction  or  separation  may  exist  mentally,  when  it 
cannot  take  place  in  the  object  itself.  For  instance,  the 
Hze,  the  figure,  length,  breadth,  colour,  &c.,  of  a  building, 
may  each  of  them  be  made  subjects  of  separate  mental 
consideration,  although  there  can  be  no  real  or  actual  sep- 
aration of  these  things  in  the  building  itself.  If  there  be 
any  one  of  these  ]-»ropertics  there  mirt  necessarily  be  all 


*i4  AB&TUACTION 

^  75.   Mental  prjcess  in  separating  and  absf/acti-g  tlivxi. 

Tlie  manner  of  expressing  oiu'seives  on  the  suLject  oi 
our  abstract  notions,  to  which  we  have  been  accustomed, 
is  apt  to  create  and  cherish  a  behef  in  the  existence  of  a 
separate  mental  faculty,  adapted  solely  to  this  parti cula;" 
purpose.  But  the  doctrine  of  a  power  or  faculty  of  ab- 
straction, which  is  exclusive  of  other  mental  susceptibili« 
ties,  and  is  employed  solely  for  this  purpose,  does  not  ap- 
pear to  be  well  founded.  It  will  convey  an  impression 
nearer  the  truth  to  speak  of  the  process  rather  than  the 
power  of  abstraction. — The  following  statement  will  be 
sufficient  to  show  how  those  of  >he  first  class,  or  particu- 
lar abstract  ideas,  are  formed- 

Although  our  earliest  notions,  whether  they  arise  from 
the  senses  or  are  of  an  internal  origin,  are  simple,  exist- 
mg  in  an  independent  and  separate  state,  yet  those  sim- 
ple thoughts  are  very  soon  found  to  unite  together  with  a 
considerable  degree  of  permanency,  and  out  of  them  are 
formed  complex  states  of  mind.  Many  are  in  this  wav 
combined  together  in  one,  and  the  question  is,  how  this 
combination  is  to  be  loosened,  and  the  elementaiy  parts 
are  to  be  extracted  from  their  present  complexity  ? 

In  answer,  it  may  be  said  that,  in  every  case  of  separ- 
ating a  particular  abstract  idea,  there  must  necessarily  be 
a  determination,  a  choice,  an  act  of  the  will.  This  vol- 
untary state  of  mind  must  concern  the  previous  complex 
mental  state,  when  viewxd  in  one  respect,  rather  than 
another ;  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  it  will  concern  one 
part  of  the  complex  idea  rather  than  another.  So  thai 
we  may  truly  and  justly  be  said  to  have  not  only  a  desire, 
but  a  determination  to  consider  or  examine  some  part  ot 
die  complex  idea  more  particularly  than  the  others. 
When  the  mind  is  in  this  manner  directed  to  any  partic- 
ular part  of  a  complex  notion,  we  find  it  to  be  the  fact, 
that  the  principle  of  association,  or  wdiatever  principle  if 
is  which  keeps  the  other  parts  in  their  state  of  union  with 
it,  ceases,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  operate  and  to 
maintain  that  union ;  the  other  parts  rapidly  fall  off  and 
disappeaj",  and  the  particular  quality,  towards  which  the 
mind  is  especially  directed,  remains  the  sole  subject  of 
consideratio:^.     That  is  to  say,  it  is  abstracted,  or  bocomo 


APSTK^  JTIOIV.  Vi\ 

An  aostract  idea. — If,  for  example,  we  have  in  mil  A  tba 
complex  notion  of  any  object,  a  house,  tree,  plant,  fIo"w- 
er,  and  the  like,  but  have  a  desire  and  determination  to 
make  the  colour,  which  forms  a  part  of  this  complex  no- 
tion, a  particular  subject  of  attention,  the  consequence  is, 
that,  while  the  quality  of  colour  occupies  our  chief  re- 
gard, the  other  qualities  will  disappear  and  no  more  be 
thought  of.  If  we  determine  to  examine  the  weight  or 
extension  of  an  object,  the  result  will  be  the  same ;  hi 
other  words,  the  extension,  weight,  colour,  &c.,  becoming 
distinct  and  exclusive  objects  of  attention,  will  be  ab- 
stracted. 

This,  in  the  formation  of  particular  abstract  ideas^ 
seems  to  be  the  process  of  the  mind,  and  nothing  more ', 
viz..  The  direction  of  an  act  of  the  will  to  a  particular 
part  of  a  complex  notion,  and  the  consequent  detention  of 
the  part  towards  which  the  mental  choice  is  directed,  and 
tlie  natural  and  necessary  disappearance,  under  such  cir- 
ciunstances,  of  the  other  parts. 

^  80.   General  abstract  notions  the  same  with  genera  and  species. 

We  proceed  now  to  consider  the  other  class  of  abstract 
ideas. — General  Abstract  idea's  are  not  only  different,  in 
consequence  of  embracing  a  greater  number  of  elementa- 
ry parts,  from  those  which  are  Particular,  but  are  also  sus- 
ceptible of  being  distinguished  from  the  great  body  of  our 
other  complex  notions. — The  idea,  for  example,  which 
we  form  of  any  indivnidual,  of  John,  Peter,  or  James,  is 
evidently  a  complex  one,  but  it  is  not  necessarily  a  gen- 
eral one.  The  notion  which  we  frame  of  a  particular 
horse  or  of  a  particular  tree,  is  likewise  a  complex  idea,  but 
not  a  general  one.  There  will  be  found  to  be  a  clear  dis- 
tinction between,  them,  although  it  may  not  be  perfectly 
obvious  at  first.  General  abstract  ideas  are  our  notionsi 
of  the  classes  of  objects,  that  is,  of  Genera  and  Species 
They  are  expressed  by  general  names,  without,  in  most 
cases,  any  defining  or  limitation,  as  when  we  uje  the 

words   .ANIMAL,  MAN,  HORSE,  BIRD,  SHEEP;,  FISH,  TREE,  llOt  tO 

express  any  one  in  particular  of  these  various  c.asses,  but 
animals,  m<,>n,  horses,  &c.,  in  general. 


!**1  ABSTRACTION. 

^  81.  I'rocess  in  classification,  jr  the  forming  of  gercia  and  jpecicn. 

Now  if  our  general  abstract  ideas,  so  far  as  they  relate 
'o  external  objects,  are  truly  notions  of  species  and  gen- 
era, it  will  aid  us  in  the  better  untlerstanding  of  them  if 
we  briefly  consider  how  species  and  genera  are  formed 
Men  certainly  find  no  great  practical  difficulty  in  forming 
these  classifications,  since  we  find  that  they  do  in  faci 
make  them  in  numberless  instances,  and  at  a  very  early 
period  of  life.  They  seem  to  be  governed  in  the  process 
by  definite  and  uniform  mental  tendencies. — What,  then, 
m  point  of  fact,  is  the  process  in  classification  ?  It  is  ob- 
vious, in  the  first  place,  that  no  classification  can  be  made 
without  considering  two  or  more  objects  together.  A 
number  of  objects,  therefore,  are  first  presented  to  us  for 
our  observation  and  inquiry,  which  are  to  be  examined 
first  in  themselves,  and  then  in  comparison  with  each 
other.  We  will  take  a  familiar  scene  to  illustrate  what 
takes  place. 

We  suppose  ourselves  to  stand  on  the  bank  of  a  navi- 
gable river ;  we  behold  the  flowing  of  its  waters,  the 
cliffs  that  overhang  it,  the  trees  that  line  its  shore,  the 
boats  and  boatmen  on  its  bosom,  the  flocks  and  herds  that 
press  down  to  drink  from  its  \vaves.  With  such  a  scene 
before  us,  it  is  to  be  expected  tliat  the  mind  will  rapidly 
make  each  and  all  of  these  the  subjects  of  its  contem  ■ 
plation;  nor  does  it  pursue  this  contemplation  and  inquir} 
far,  without  perceiving  certain  relations  of  agreement  or 
difference.  Certain  objects  before  it  are  felt  to  be  essen- 
tially alike,  and  others  to  be  essentially  different ;  and 
hence  they  are  not  all  arranged  in  one  class,  but  a  dis- 
crimination is  made,  and  difl'erent  classes  are  formed 
The  flocks  and  herds  are  formed  into  their  respective 
classes.  The  tall  and  leafy  bodies  on  the  river's  bank, 
although  they  differ  from  each  other  in  some  respects,  are 
yet  found  to  agree  in  so  many  others,  that  they  are  ar- 
ranged together  in  another  class,  and  called  by  the  gen- 
eral name  of  tree.  The  living,  moving,  and  reasoning 
beings  that  propel  the  beats  on  its  waters,  form  another 
olass,  and  are  called  man. — And  there  is  the  same  process* 
«nd  the  same  result  in  respect  to  all  other  bodies  coming 
\,vithit)  the  range  of  o  ir  observaiiou. 


ABSTRACTION 


97 


6  8'5.  Early  class, ficc  ions  sometimes  incorrect. 

ll  nas  been  intimated,  that,  in  making  these  cla'siru;a- 
tions^  men  are  governed  by  definite  and  uniform  menial 
tendencies ;  still  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  mistakes 
are  sometimes  committed,  especially  in  tlie  early  periods 
of  society,  and  in  all  cases  where  the  opportunities  of  ex- 
amination and  comparison  are  imperfect.  When  man 
first  opens  Ids  eyes  on  nature,  (and  in  the  infancy  of  oui 
race  he  finds  himself  a  novice  wherever  he  goes,)  objecti] 
so  numerous,  so  various  in  kind,  so  novel  and  interesting, 
crowd  upon  his  attention,  that,  attempting  to  direct  him- 
self to  all  at  the  same  time,  he  loses  sij;  lit  of  their  specif- 
ical  differences,  and  blends  them  together  more  than  a 
calm  and  accurate  examination  would  justify.  And 
hence  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  our  earliest  classi- 
fications, the  primitive  genera  and  species,  are  sometimes 
incorrectly  made. 

Subsequently,  when  knowledge  has  been  in  some  meas- 
ure amassed,  and  reasoning  and  observation  have  been 
brought  to  a  greater  malurity,  these  errors  are  attended  to ; 
individuals  are  rejected  from  species  where  they  do  not 
properly  belong,  and  species  from  gene^-a.  The  most  sav- 
age and  ignorant  tribes  will  in  due  season  correct  their 
mistakes  and  be  led  into  the  truth. 

^  83.  Illustrations  of  our  earliest  classificatioas. 

We  are  naturally  led  to  introduce  one  or  two  incideiits 
hftre  which  throw  light  on  this  part  of  our  subject. 
What  we  wish  to  illustrate  is  the  simple  fact  that  men 
readily  percei\  e  the  resemblances  of  objects,  and  exhibit 
a  disposition  to  classify  them  in  reference  to  such  resem- 
hJance,  The  first  case  which  w^e  shall  mention  in  illus- 
tration of  this,  is  that  of  Caspar  Hauser.  The  principal 
objecls  which  Caspar  had  to  amuse  himself  with  in  his  pris- 
on w  ere  two  little  wooden  horees,  which,  in  his  entire  ig- 
ewrance,  he  believed  to  be  possessed  of  life  and  sensibility. 
A  Iter  the  termination  of  his  imprisonment,  his  biographer 
mforms  us,  that  to  "  every  animal  he  met  with,  w^hetlier 
quadiuped  or  biped,  dog,  cat,  goose,  or  fowl,  he  gave  the 
mme  of  horse  " 

la  the  year  ^ir  14,  Pit  'ainrs  Island,  a  soUtar)  spot  iu 
I 


98  A  BSTK  ACTION. 

the  Pacific  Octan,  was  visited  by  two  English  cruisers. 
Two  of  the  young  men  that  belonged  on  the  island,  and 
whose  knowledge  was,  of  course,  extremely  limited,  came 
on  board  one  of  the  vessels.  "  The  youths,"  says  the 
Narrative,  "  were  greatly  surprised  at  the  sight  of  so 
many  novel  objects ;  the  size  of  the  ship,  the  gjns,  and 
everything  around  them.  Observing  a  cow,  they  were  at 
first  somewhat  alarmed,  and  expressed  a  doubt  whether  it 
was  a  huge  goat  or  a  horned  hog,  these  being  the  only 
two  species  of  quadrupeds  they  had  ever  seen." — Travel- 
lers mention  other  instances  where  there  is  the  same  ten- 
dency to  classify,  which  we  have  not  room  to  repeat 

^  84.  Of  the  nature  of  general  abstract  ideas. 

The  notions  which  are  thus  formed  in  all  cases  of  class- 
ification, are  commonly  known,  in  the  Treatises  having 
relation  to  these  subjects,  as  General  Abstract  ideas. 
And  they  are  no  less  numerous  than  the  multiplied  varie- 
ties of  objects  which  are  found  to  exist  everywhere  around 
us.  It  is  thus  that  we  form  the  general  notions  of  animal 
and  of  all  the  subordinate  species  of  animals ;  of  tree  and 
its  numerous  varieties ;  of  earths,  and  minerals,  and  what- 
ever else  is  capable  of  being  arranged  into  classes. 

But  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  the  general  idea,  whatever 
objects  it  may  be  founded  upon,  does  not  embrace  every 
particular  which  makes  a  part  of  such  objects.  WTien  we 
look  at  a  number  of  men,  we  find  them  all  differing  in 
some  respects,  in  height,  size,  colour,  tone  of  the  voice,  and 
in  other  particulars.  The  mind  fixes  only  upon  those 
traits  or  properties  with  which  it  can  combine  the  no- 
tion of  resemblance  ;  that  is  to  say,  those  traits,  qualities, 
or  properties  in  which  the  individuals  are  perceived  to  be 
like,  or  to  resemble  each  other. — The  complex  mental 
state,  which  embraces  these  qualities  and  properties,  and 
nothing  more,  (with  the  exception  of  the  superadded 
notion  of  other  bodies  having  resembling  qualities,)  is  a 
General  Abstract  idea. 

And  hence  the  name.  Such  notions  are  called  ab- 
CTRACT,  because,  while  embracing  many  individuals  in 
certain  respects,  they  detach  and  leave  out  altogether  s 
rariety  of  particulars  in  which  those  individuals  disagrcp 


Ate  n;  ACTION,  <JS 

II  there  were  not  this  discrimination  urcl  leaving  out  of 
certain  parts,  we  never  could  consider  these  notions,  re- 
garded as  wholes,  as  otherwise  than  individual  or  partic- 
ular.— They  are  called  general,  because,  in  consequence 
of  the  discrimination  and  selection  wdiich  has  just  been 
mentioned,  they  embrace  such  qualities  and  properties  as 
exist  not  in  one  merely,  but  in  many. 

0  85.  The  power  of  general  abstraction  in  connexion  with  nunibers,  &c. 

The  ability  which  the  mind  possesses  of  forming  gen- 
eral abstract  ideas,  is  of  much  practical  importance.  It  is 
not  easy  to  estimate  the  increase  of  power  which  is  thus 
given  to  the  action  of  the  human  mind,  particularly  in 
reasoning.  By  means  of  general  abstract  propositions, 
we  are  able  to  state  volumes  in  a  few  sentences ;  that  is 
to  say,  the  truths,  stated  and  illustrated  in  a  few  general 
propositions,  would  fill  volumes  in  their  particular  appli- 
cations. 

Without  the  ability  of  forming  general  notijons,  we 
should  not  be  able  to  number,  even  in  the  smallest  de- 
gree. Before  we  can  consider  objects  as  forming  a  mul- 
titude, or  are  able  to  number  them,  it  seems  necessary  to 
be  able  to  apply  to  tliem  a  common  name.  This  we  can- 
not do  until  we  have  reduced  them  to  a  genus ;  and  the 
formation  of  a  genus  implies  tlie  power  (or  process,  rath- 
er) of  absti-action.  Consequently,  we  should  be  unable, 
without  such  power,  to  number. — ^How  great,  then,  is  the 
practical  importance  of  that  intellectual  process  by  which 
general  abstractions  are  formed ! — Without  the  abilitj^  to 
number,  we  should  be  at  a  loss  in  our  investigations 
where  this  ability  is  required;  without  the  power  to  class- 
ify, all  our  speculations  must  be  limited  to  particulars,  and 
we  should  be  capable  of  no  general  reasoning. 

•J  86.  Of  general  abstract  truths  or  principles. 

There  are  not  only  general  abstract  ideas,  but  abstract 
truths  or  principles  also  of  a  general  nature,  which  are. 
deserving  of  some  attention,  especially  in  a  practical 
point  of  view.  Although  enough  has  already  been  said 
to  show  the  importance  of  abstraction,  it  may  yet  be  de« 
sirable  to  have  a  Uiore  full  view  of  its  applications 


too  ABSTRACTION. 

The  process,  in  forming  general  truths  or  principles  o! 
an  abstract  nature,  seems  :o  be  tliis.  We  must  begin 
untloubtedly  with  the  examination  and  study  of  particu- 
lars; with  individual  objects  and  characters,  and  with 
insulated  events.  We  subsequently  confirm  the  truth  ot 
whatever  has  been  ascertained  in  such  inquiry,  by  an  ob- 
servation of  other  like  objects  and  events.  We  proceed 
from  one  individual  to  another,  till  no  doubt  remains.— 
Havnng  in  this  way  arrived  at  some  general  fact  or  prin- 
ciple, we  thenceforward  throw  aside  the  consideration  of 
the  particular  objects  on  which  it  is  founded,  and  m,ake 
it  alone,  exclusively  and  abstractly,  the  subject  of  our 
mental  contemplations.  We  repeat  this  process  again 
'  and  again,  till  the  mind,  instead  of  being  wholly  taken 
up  with  a  multitude  of  particulars,  is  stored  wdth  truths 
of  a  general  kind.  These  truths  it  subsequently  combines 
in  trains  of  reasoning,  compares  together,  and  deduces 
from  them  others  of  still  wider  application. 

^  87.  Of  the  speculations  of  philosophers  and  others. 

What  has  been  said  leads  us  to  observe,  that  there  is  a 
characteristical  difference  between  the  speculations  of  men 
of  philosophic  minds  and  those  of  the  common  mass  of 
people,  which  is  worthy  of  some  notice.  The  difference 
■'>etween  the  two  is  not  so  much,  that  philosophers  are 
icrusloraed  to  carry  on  processes  of  reasoning  to  a  great- 
er extent,  as  this,  that  they  are  more  in  the  habit  of  em- 
ploying general  abstract  ideas  and  general  terms,  and 
that,  consequently,  the  conclusions  v.hich  they  form  are 
more*  comprehensive.  Nor  are  their  general  reasonings, 
although  the  conclusions  at  which  they  arrive  seem,  in 
their  particular  applications,  to  indicate  w^onderful  fertil- 
ity of  invention,  so  difficult  in  the  performance  as  is  apt 
to  be  supposed.  They  have  so  often  and  so  long  looked 
at  general  ideas  and  general  propositions ;  have  been  so 
accustomed,  as  one  may  say,  to  contemplate  the  general 
nature  of  things,  divested  of  all  superfluous  and  all  spe- 
cific circumstances,  that  they  have  formed  a  habit ;  and 
the  operation  is  performed  without  difficulty.  It  requires 
m  such  persons  no  greater  intellectual  effort  than  would 
be  necessary  in  skilfully  managing  the  details  of  ordinmy 
business. 


OF    aTTI'NTION  101 

The  'opeciilatioJiB  of  the  great  bulk  of  inankuicl  ditlci 
trom  those  of  philosophers  in  being,  both  in  the  subjects 
of  them  and  in  their  results,  particular.  They  discover 
an  inability  to  enlarge  their  view  to  universal  propositions, 
which  embrace  a  great  number  of  individuals.  They  may 
possess  the  power  of  mere  argument,  of  compai-ing  propo- 
sitions together  which  concern  particulars,  and  detlucing 
inferences  from  them  to  a  great  degree ;  but  when  th«y 
attempt  t.!>  contemplate  general  propositions,  their  u\mi\a 
are  perplexed,  and  the  conclusions  which  are  draw/k  iroip 
them  appear  obscure,  however  clearly  the  previcyj  pro 
cess  of  reasoning  may  have  been  expressed. 


CHAPTER  XL 

OF   ATTENTION. 

^  88.  Of  the  general  nature  of  attentun 

Without  considering  it  necessary  to  spe^/A  o'l  attention 
as  a  separate  intellectual  power  or  faculty,  ya  some  may 
be  inclined  to  do,  it  seems  to  be  sufficient  to  say,  that  at- 
tention expresses  the  state  of  the  mind,  when  it  is  stead- 
ily directed,  for  a  length  of  time,  to  some  object  of  sense 
or  intellect,  exclusive  of  other  objects.  When  we  say 
that  any  external  object,  or  any  subject  of  thought  which 
is  purely  internal,  receives  attention,  it  seems  to  be  thf 
fact,  as  far  as  we  are  able  to  determine,  that  the  intellect 
B  occupied  with  the  subject  of  its  attention,  whatever  il 
is,  for  a  certain  period,  and  that  all  other  things  are,  foi 
Jhe  time  being,  shut  out.  In  other  words,  the  grasp  which 
(ijf  perceptive  power  fixes  upon  the  object  of  its  contem- 
plations is  an  undivided,  an  unbroken  one. — But  thia 
does  not  appear  to  be  all.  There  is  not  only  a  distinct 
and  exclusive  mental  perception ;  but  also  an  act  of  the 
will,  directing,  condensing,  and  confining  the  perception. 
So  that,  in  all  cases  of  attention,  the  fact  of  the  mind  ma} 
he  regarded  as  a  complex  one,  involving  not  ordy  the 
mere  perception  or  senes  of  perceptions,  but  also  an  a2( 

12 


102  OF   AriENTION. 

of  the  will,  fouuded  on  some  feeling  of  desire  or  sentinient 
of  duty.  It  is  the  act  of  the  will,  prompted  in  general 
by  the  feeling  of  desire  or  interest,  which  keeps  the  mind 
intense  and  fixed  in  its  position. 

6  89.  Of  different  degrees  of  attention. 

In  agreement  with  this  view  of  the  subject,  we  olteu 
speak  of  attention  as  great  or  small,  as  existing  in  a  very 
high  or  a  very  slight  degree.  When  the  view  of  the  mind 
js  only  momentary,  and  is  miaccompanied,  as  it  generally 
js  at  such  times,  with  any  force  of  emotion  or  energy  of 
v'olitive  action,  then  the  attention  is  said  to  be  slight 
When,  on  the  contrary,  the  mind  directs  itself  to  an  ob- 
ject, or  series  of  objects,  with  earnestness,  and  for  a  con- 
siderable length  of  time,  and  refuses  to  attend  to  anything 
else,  then  the  attention  is  said  to  be  intense. 

We  cormnonly  judge  at  first  of  the  degree  of  attention 
to  a  subject  from  the  length  of  time  during  which  the 
mind  is  occupied  with  it.  But  when  we  look  a  little 
further,  it  will  be  found  that  the  time  \\ill  generally  de- 
penvl  upon  the  strength  and  permanency  of  the  attendant 
emotion  of  interest.  And  hence,  both  the  time  and  the 
degree  of  feeling  are  to  be  regarded  in  our  estimate  of 
the  power  of  attention  in  any  particular  case  ;  the  former 
being  the  result,  and,  in  some  sense,  a  measui-e  of  thf 
latter. 

Of  instances  of  people  who  are  able  to  give  but  slight 
attention  to  any  subject  of  thought,  who  cannot  brinp 
their  minds  to  it  with  steadiness  and  power,  we  every- 
where find  multitudes,  and  there  are  some  instances  where 
tliis  ability  has  been  possessed  in  such  a  high  degree  a? 
to  be  worthy  of  notice.  There  have  been  mathematician^ 
who  could  investigate  the  most  complicated  problems 
amid  ever}'  variety  and  character  of  disturbance.  It  was 
eaid  of  Julius  Csesar,  that,  while  writing  a  despatch,  he 
could  at  the  same  time  dictate  four  others  to  his  secreta- 
ries ;  and  if  he  did  not  write  himself,  could  dictate  seven 
.etters  at  once.  The  same  thing  is  asserted  also  of  the 
Emperor  Napoleon,  who  had  a  wonderful  capability  of 
directing  his  whole  mental  energy  to  whatever  came  be- 
fore him.* 

'  Se/ur's  IT'^ton  of  t'>f;  r.ijiedition  to  Russia,  bk.  vi'..    ch.  iri 


OF   ATTENTION  iM 

^90    Dependence  of  memory  on  atten, ion. 

There  seems  to  be  no  doctrine  in  mental  philosophy 
ton^re  clearly  established  than  this,  thai  memory  depends 
on  attention ;  that  is,  where  attention  is  very  slight,  re- 
membiance  is  weak,  and  where  attention  is  mtense,  re- 
membrance continues  longer. — There  are  many  facta 
which  confirm  this  statement. 

(1.)  In  the  course  of  a  single  day,  persons  who  are  m 
the  habit  of  winking  will  close  their  eyelids  perhaps 
thousands  of  times,  and,  as  often  as  they  close  them,  will 
place  themselves  in  utter  darkness.  Probably  they  are 
conscious  at  the  time  both  of  closing  their  eyelids  and  of 
being  in  the  dark ;  but,  as  their  attention  is  chiefly  taken 
up  with  other  things,  they  have  entirely  forgotten  it. — 
(2.)  Let  a  person  be  much  engaged  in  conversation,  or 
occupied  with  any  very  interestmg  speculation,  and  the 
clock  will  strike  in  the  room  where  he  is,  apparently 
without  his  having  any  knowledge  of  it.  He  hears  the 
clock  strike  as  much  as  at  any  other  time,  but,  not  at- 
tending to  the  perception  of  sound,  and  having  his 
thoughts  directed  another  way,  he  immediately  forgets. — 
(3.)  Li  the  occupations  of  the  day,  when  a  multitude  of 
cures'  are  pressing  us  on  every  side,,  a  thousand  things 
escape  om-  notice ;  they  appear  to  be  neither  seen 
nor  heard,  nor  to  affect  us  in  any  way  whatever.  But 
at  the  stillness  of  evening,  when  anxieties  and  tolls  are 
quieted,  and  there  is  a  general  pause  in  nature,  we  seem 
to  be  endued  with  a  new  sense,  and  the  slightest  sound 
attracts  our  attention.     Shakspeare  has  marked  even  this 

"  The  crow  doth  sing  as  sweetly  as  the  larlc 
When  neither  is  attended  ;  and,  I  think, 
Tlie  nightingale,  if  she  should  sing  by  day. 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren." 

IV  is  on  the  same  principle  that  people  dwelling  in  tlie 
vicinity  of  waterfalls  do  not  appear  to  notice  the  sound. 
The  residents  in  the  neighbourhood  even  of  the  great 
Cataract  of  Niagara  are  not  seriously  disturbed  by  it,  al- 
Ihough  it  is  an  unbroken,  interminable  thunder  to  all 
others. — Tlie  reason  in  all  these  cases  is  the  same,  as  haa 
vilready  been  given.  There  is  no  attention  and  no  re-i 
membrance,  and,  of  course,  virtually  no  perception. 

(4.^  Whenever  we  read  a  book,  w^e  do  net  observ* 


KM  OF    ATTENTION 

the  words  merely  as  a  whole,  but  t»'ery  letter  of  which 
they  are  made  up,  and  even  the  minute  parts  of  these  let- 
ters. But  it  is  merely  a  glance  ;  it  does  not  for  any 
length  of  time  occupy  our  attention  ;  we  immediately 
foiget,  and  Vt^ith  great  difficulty  persuade  ourselves  that 
Vve  have  truly  perceived  the  letters  of  the  word.  The 
fact  that  everv  letter  is  in  ordinary  cases  observed  by  us, 
may  be  proved  by  leaving  out  a  letter  of  the  w^ord,  or  by 
substituting  others  of  a  similar  form.  We  readily,  in 
reading,  detect  such  omissions  or  substitutions. 

(5.)  An  expert  accountant  can  sum  up,  almost  with  u 
single  glance  of  the  eye,  a  long  cokunn  of  figures.  The 
operation  is  performed  almost  instantaneously,  and  yet  he 
ascertains  the  sum  of  the  whole  with  unerring  certainty. 
It  is  impossible  that  he  should  learn  the  sum  without  no- 
ticing every  figure  in  the  whole  column,  and  with-jut  al- 
lowing each  its  proper  worth  ;  but  the  attention  Ut  them 
v/as  so  very  slight,  that  he  is  unable  to  remember  this 
distinct  notice. 

Many  facts  of  this  kind  evidently  show,  as  we  think, 
that  memory  depends  upon  attention,  or  rather  upon  a  con- 
tinuance of  attention,  and  varies  with  that  continuance 

y  91.  Of  exercising  altention  in  reading. 

If  attention,-  as  we  have  seen,  be  requisite  to  memory, 
then  we  are  furnished  with  a  practical  rule  of  considera- 
ble importance.  The  rule  Is,  JVot  to  give  a  hasty  and 
careless  reading  of  authors,  hvt  read  them  vnth  a  suitable 
degree  of  deliberation  and  thought. — If  we  are  asked  the 
reason  of  this  direction,  we  find  a  good  and  satisfactory 
one  in  the  fact  referred  to  at  the  head  of  this  section, 
that  there  cannot  be  memory  without  attention,  or,  rather, 
that  the  power  of  memory  will  vary  with  the  degiee  ot 
attention.  By  yielding  to  the  desire  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  a  greater  variety  of  departments  of  knowl- 
edge than  the  understanding  is  able  to  master,  and,  as  a 
necessary  consequence,  by  bestowing  upon  each  of  thein 
only  a  very  slight  attention,  wx  remain  essentially  igno- 
rant of  the  whole. 

(1.)  The  person  who  pursues  such  a  couise  finds  him- 
self unable  to  recall  what  he  has  been  over  ;  he  has  a 
gfreat  many  half-formed  notions  tloating  in  his  mind,  bul 


OF    ATTENTION. 


105 


these  are  5o  ill  shaped  and  so  little  under  his  control  cw 
to  be  but  little  better  than  actual  ignorance.  This  is  one 
rvil  result  of  reading  authors  and  of  going  over  sciences 
in  the  careless  way  which  has  been  specified,  that  the 
knowledge  thus  acquired,  if  it  can  be  called  knowledge, 
is  of  very  little  practical  benefit,  in  consequence  of  being 
so  poorly  digested  and  so  little  under  control. — (2.)  But 
tliere  is  another,  and  perhaps  more  serious  evil.  This 
practice  greatly  disqualifies  one  for  all  intellectual  pur- 
suits. To  store  the  mind  with  new  ideas  is  only  a  part 
of  education.  It  is,  at  least,  a  matter  of  equal  impor- 
ta.ice,  to  impart  to  all  the  m.ental  powers  a  suitable  disci- 
pline, to  exercise  those  that  are  strong,  to  strengthen 
those  that  are  weak,  and  to  maintain  among  all  of  them 
a  suitable  balance.  An  attentive  and  thorough  examina- 
tion of  subjects  is  a  training  up  of  the  mind  in  both  these 
respects.  It  furnishes  it  with  that  species  of  knowledge 
which  is  most  valuable,  because  it  is  not  mixed  up  with 
errors ;  and,  moreover,  gives  a  strength  and  consistency 
to  the  whole  structure  of  the  intellect.  Whereas,  when  the 
mind  is  long  left  at  liberty  to  wander  from  object  to  objcc', 
without  being  called  to  account  and  subjected  to  the 
rules  of  salutary  discipline,  it  entirely  loses,  at  last,  the 
ability  to  dwell  upon  the  subjects  of  its  thoughts,  und  ex- 
amine them.  And,  when  this  power  is  once  lost,  there  is 
but  little  ground  to  expect  any  solid  attainment'! 

^  92.  Alleged  inability  to  command  the  attention,. 

We  are  aware  tha(  hose  who,  in  accordance  with 
these  directions,  are  re(juired  to  make  a  close  and  thor- 
ough examination  of  subjects,  will  sometiraei  complain 
that  they  find  a  great  obstacle  in  their  inability  to  hx 
their  attention.  They  are  not  wanting  in  ability  to  com' 
prehend ;  but  find  it  difficult  to  retain  the  mind  in  one  po- 
sition so  long  as  to  enable  them  to  connect  together  all  the 
parts  of  a  subject,  and  duly  estimate  their  various  bear- 
ings. When  this  intellectual  defect  exists,  it  becomes  a 
new  reason  for  that  thorough  examination  of  subjects, 
which  has  been  above  recommended.  It  has  probably 
been  caused  by  a  neglect  of  sich  strictness  of  exami- 
nation, and  by  a  too  rapid  and  careless  transition  fi'om 
one  subject  to  anothei 


JOG  OF   ATTENTION. 

Attention,  it  will  be  recollected,  expre&ses  Ihe  s-latu 
of  the  mine'  wl.en  it  is  steadily  directed  for  seme  Lime, 
whether  loiiger  or  shorter,  to  some  object  of  sense  or  in- 
tellect, exclusive  of  other  objects.  All  other  objects  are 
shut  out;  and  when  this  exclusion  of  evei-ything  else 
continues  for  some  time,  the  attention  is  said  to  be  in- 
tense.— Now  it  is  well  known  that  such  an  exclusive  di- 
rection of  the  mind  cannot  exist  for  any  long  period 
without  being  accompanied  with  a  feeling  of  desire  or 
of  duty.  In  the  greatest  intellectual  exertions,  not  the 
mere  powders  of  judging,  of  abstracting,  and  of  reasoning 
are  concerned ;  there  will  also  be  a  greater  or  less  move- 
ment of  the  feelings.  And  it  wdll  be  found  that  no  feel- 
ing will  effectually  confine  the  minds  of  men  in  scientific 
pursuits,  but  a  love  of  the  truth. 

Mr.  Locke  thought  that  the  person  who  should  discov- 
er a  remedy  for  wandering  thoughts  would  do  a  great 
service  to  the  studious  and  contemplative  part  of  man- 
kind. We  know  of  no  other  effective  remedy  than  the 
one  just  mentioned,  a  love  of  the  truth,  a  desire  to 
know  the  nature  and  relations  of  things,  merely  for  the 
sake  of  knowledge.  It  is  true,  that  a  conviction  of  duty 
will  do  much;  ambition  and  interest  may  possibly  do 
more ;  but  when  the  mind  is  led  to  deep  investigations 
by  these  view's  merely,  without  finding  something  beauti- 
ful and  attractive  in  the  aspect  of  knowledge  itself,  it  is 
likely  to  prove  a  tiresome  process.  The  excellence  of 
knowledge,  therefore,  considered  merely  in  the  light  of 
its  being  suited  to  the  intellectual  nature  of  man,  and  as 
the  appropriate  intentive  and  reward  of  intellectual  ac- 
tivity, ought  to  be  frequently  impressed. — "  I  saw  D' Alem- 
bertj"  says  a  recent  writer,  "  congratulate  a  young  man 
vtr}-  coldly  who  brought  him  a  solution  of  a  problem. 
The  young  man  said, '  I  have  done  this  in  order  to  have 
a  seat  in  the  Academy.'  '  Sir,'  answered  D'Alembert, 
'  with  such  dispositions  you  never  will  earn  one.  Sci- 
ence must  be  loved  for  its  own  sake,  and  net  for  the  ad- 
vantage to  be  derived.  No  other  principle  will  enable  a 
man  to  make  progress  in  the  sciences'.'  "* 

*  Memoirs  of  Montlosier,  vol.  i.,  fage  58,  as  Quoted  ip  Hackintosh')! 
titliical  Philosopliy,  sect    vii. 


HREAMIMl  Vfft 


CHAPTER  XII 

DREAMING. 

')i)2.  Definition  of  dreams  and  the  prcva'.cr.cC  of  them. 

AjWONG  numerous  other  subjects  in  mental  philosopny 
•rhich  claim  their  share  of  attention,  that  of  Dreaming  is 
entitled  to  it3  place ;  nor  can  we  be  certain  tiiat  any  other 
will  be  found  more  appropriate  to  it  than  the  present,  es- 
pecially when  we  consider  how  closely  it  is  connected  in 
kU  its  forms  with  our  sensations  and  conceptions.  And 
what  are  Dreams?  It  approaches,  perhaps,  sufficiently 
.  near  to  a  correct  general  description  to  say,  that  they  are 
our  mental  states  and  operations  while  we  are  asleep. 
But  the  particular  views  which  are  to  be  taken  in  the  ex- 
amination of  this  subject  will  not  fail  to  throw  light  on 
this  general  statement. 

The  mental  states  and  exercises  which  go  under  this 
^lame  have  ever  excited  much  interest.  It  is  undoubt- 
ledly  one  reason  of  the  attention,  which  the  subject  of  our 
dreams  has  ever  elicited  among  all  classes  of  people,  that 
they  are  so  prevalent ;  it  being  very  difficult,  if  not  im- 
possible, to  find  a  person  who  has  not  had  more  or  less  of 
this  experience.  Mr.  Locke,  however,  tells  us  of  an  in- 
flividual  who  never  dreamed  till  the  twenty-sixth  year  of 
his  age,  when  he  happened  to  have  a  fever,  and  then 
dreamed  for  the  first  time.  Plutarch  also  mentions  one 
Cleon,  a  friend  of  his,  who  lived  to  an  advanced  age,  and 
yet  had  never  dreamed  once  in  his  life;  and  remarks  that 
he  had  heard  the  same  thing  reported  of  Thrasymedes. 

Undoubtedly  these  persons  dreamed  very  seldom,  as  we 
hnd  that  some  dream  much  more  than  others ;  but  it  is 
possible  that  they  may  have  dreamed  at  some  time  and 
entirely  forgotten  it.  So  that  it  cannot  with  certainly  be 
inferred  from  such  instances  as  these,  that  there  are  any 
vfho  are  entirely  exempt  from  dreaming. 

^  04.  r,onneiioi\  of  dreams  with  our  waking  thoughts. 

In  giTJinr.'  an  explanation  of  dreriras,  our  attention  M 


108  fJKEAMINft. 

first  arrested  by  the  circumstance  that  they  have  an  inli- 
mate  relationship  with  our  waking  thoughts.  The  great 
body  of  our  waking  experiences  appear  in  the  form  of 
trains  of  associations ;  and  these  trains  of  associated  ideas, 
in  greater  or  less  continuit}'-,  and  with  greater  or  less  va- 
riation, continue  when  we  are  asleep. — Condorcet  (a 
name  famous  in  the  history  of  France)  told  some  one, 
that,  while  he  was  engaged  in  abstruse  and  profound  cal- 
culations, he  was  freq'ae)itly  obliged  to  leave  them  in  an 
unfinished  state,  i)i  order  to  retire  to  rest,  and  that  the  rc- 
juaining  steps  and  the  conc-.usion  of  liis  calculations  have 
more  than  once  jaresented  themselves  in  his  dreams. — 
Franklin  also  has  i.aiide  th  e  remark,  that  the  bearings  and 
results  of  political  events,  which  had  caused  him  much 
trouble  while  awake,  were;  not  unfrequently  unfolded  to 
him  in  dreaming. — Mr.  Coleridge  says,  that,  as  he  was 
once  reading  in  the  Pilgrimage  of  Purchas  an  account"  of 
the  palace  and  garden  of  the  Khan  Kubla,  he  fell  into  a 
sleep,  and  in  that  situation  composed  an  entire  poem  of 
not  less  than  two  hundred  lines,  some  of  which  he  after- 
ward committed  to  waiting.  The  poem  is  entitled  Kubia 
Khan,  and  begins  as  follows  : 

"  In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 
A  stately  pleasure-dome  decree  ; 
Where  Alph,  the  sacred  river,  ran 
Through  caverns  measureless  to  man 
Down  to  a  sunless  sea." 

It  is  evident  from  such  statements  as  these,  which  are 
confirmed  by  the  experience  of  almost  every  person,  that 
our  dreams  are  fashioned  from  the  materials  of  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  which  we  have  whde  awake ;  in  other  words, 
they  will,  in  a  great  degree,  be  merely  the  repetition  of 
our  customary  and  prevailing  associations.  So  well  un- 
derstood is  this,  that  President  Edwards,  who  was  no  less 
distinguished  as  a  mental  philosopher  than  as  a  theolo 
gian,  thought  it  a  good  practice  to  take  particular  notice 
of  his  dreams,  in  order  to  ascertain  from  them  what  hia 
predominant  inclinations  were. 

(j  95.  Dreams  are  often  caused  hy  our  seneations. 

Bni  while  we   are  to  look  for  the  materials  of  our 
dreams  in   thoughts  which   had   previously  existed,  yve 


PREAMINvJ  lOS 

further  find  that  they  are  not  beyond  th&  hiiluene.e  ot 
those  shght  bodily  sensations  of  which  we  are  susceptible 
even  in  hours  of  sleep.  These  sensations,  slight  as  they 
Hre,  are  the  means  of  introducing  one  set  of  associati-ons 
rather  than  another. — Dugald  Stewait  relates  an  incident 
v/hich  may  be  considered  an  evidence  of  this,  that  u  per 
©on  with  whom  he  was  acquainted  had  occasion,  in  con 
sequence  of  an  indisposition,  to  apply  a  bottle  of  hot  water 
to  his  feet  when  he  went  to  bed,  and  the  consequence 
was,  that  he  dreamed  he  was  making  a  journey  to  the 
top  of  Mount  iEtna,  and  that  he  found  the  heat  of  the 
ground  almost  insupportable.  There  was  once  a  gentle- 
man in  the  English  army  who  was  so  susceptible  of  audi- 
ble impressions  while  he  was  asleep,  that  his  companions 
could  make  him  dream  of  wdiat  they  pleased.  Once,  in 
particular,  they  made  him  go  through  the  whole  process 
of  a  duel,  from  the  p-eliminary  arrangements  to  the  firing 
of  the  pistol,  which  they  put  into  his  hand  for  that  pur- 
pose, and  which,  when  it  exploded,  waked  him. 

A  cause  of  dreams,  closely  allied  to  the  above,  is  the 
variety  of  sensations  which  we  experience  from  the  stom- 
ach, viscera,  &c. — Persons,  for  instance,  w^ho  liave  been 
for  a  long  time  deprived  of  food,  or  have  received  it  only 
in  small  quantities,  hardly  enough  to  preserve  life,  will  be 
likely  to  have  dreams  in  some  way  or  other  directly  re- 
lating to  their  condition.  Baron  Trenck  relates,  that, 
being  almost  dead  with  hunger  when  confined  in  his 
dungeon,  his  dreams  every  night  presented  to  him  the 
well-filled  and  luxurious  tables  of  Berlin,  from  which,  as 
they  w'ere  presented  before  him,  he  imagined  he  was 
about  to  relieve  his  hunger.  "  The  night  had  far  atlvan- 
ced,"  says  Irving,  speaking  of  tne  voyage  of  IMendez  to 
Hispaniola,  "  but  those  whose  turn  it  was  to  take  repos« 
were  unable  to  sleep,  from  the  intensity  of  then*  thirst ; 
or  if  they  slept,  it  was  to  be  tantalized  with  dreams  of 
cool  fountains  and  running  brooks." 

Tiie  state  of  health  also  has  considerable  influence,  not 
only  in  producing  dreams,  but  in  giving  them  a  partic  ilar 
character.  The  remark  has  been  made  by  medical  men, 
that  acute  diseases,  particularly  fevers,  are  often  precedrd 
«nd  indicated  by  disagrceal^le  and  oppressive  dreMiiTS 

K 


(10  LSKEAMTNO 

^  bf\.   Exflanat  on  of  the  Jncohcrency  of  drcarns.     (Isl  cause.; 

There  is  frequently  much  of  wildness,  inconsistency, 
and  contradiction  in  our  dreams.  The  mind  passes  very 
rapidly  from  one  object  to  another ;  strange  and  singular 
incidents  occur.  If  our  dreams  be  truly  the  repetition  of 
our  waking  thoughts,  it  may  well  be  inquired,  How  thia 
wildness  and  inconsistency  happen  1 

The  explanation  of  this  pecuharity  resolves  itself  into 
two  parts. — The  first  ground  or  cause  of  it  is,  that  our 
dreams  are  not  subjected,  like  our  waking  thoughts,  to 
the  control  and  regulation  of  surrounding  objects.  Wliile 
we  are  awake,  our  trains  of  thought  are  kept  uniform  and 
coherent  by  the  influence  of  such  objects,  which  continu- 
ally remind  us  of  our  situation,  character,  and  duties; 
and  which  keep  in  check  any  tendency  to  revery.  But 
m  sleep  the  senses  are  closed ;  the  soul  is  accordingly,  in 
a  great  measure,  excluded  from  the  material  world,  and 
is  thus  deprived  of  the  salutary  regulating  influence  from 
that  source. 

§  97.   Second  cause  of  the  incoherency  of  dreams. 

In  the  second  place,  when  we  are  asleep,  our  associate.! 
trains  of  thought  are  no  longer  under  the  control  of  the 
WILL.  We  do  not  mean  <o  say  that  the  operations  of  the 
will  are  suspended  at  such  times,  and  that  volitions  have, 
no  existence.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  sufficient  evidence 
of  the  continuance  of  these  mental  acts,  in  some  degree 
at  least ;  since  volitions  must  have  made  a  part  of  the 
original  trains  of  thought  which  are  repeated  in  dream- 
ing ;  and  furthermore,  we  are  often  as  conscious  of  exer- 
cising or  putting  forth  volitions  when  dreaming  as  of  any 
other  mental  acts ;  for  instance,  imagining,  remembering, 
assenting,  or  reasoning.  When  we  dream  that  we  are 
attached  by  an  enemy  sword  in  hand,  but  happen,  as  we 
suppose  in  our  dreaming  experiences,  to  be  furnished  in 
self-defence  with  an  instrument  of  the  same  kind,  we 
dream  that  we  mill  to  exert  it  for  our  own  safety  and 
against  our  antagonist;  and  we  as  truly  in  this  case  put 
forth  the  mental  exercise  which  we  term  volition,  as,  in 
any  other,  we  exercise  remembrance, or  imagine,  or  r( asrn 
in  om*  sleep 


tfREAMING  111 

Aoinntting,  lio\veyer,  that  the  will  continues  to  act  in 
sleep,  it  is  quite  evident  that  the  volitions  which  are  put 
forth  by  it  have  ceased  to  exercise  their  customary  influ- 
ence m  respect  to  our  mental  operations.  Ordinarily  we 
are  able,  by  means  of  an  act  of  the  will,  to  fix  our  atten- 
tion upon  some  particular  part  of  any  general  subject 
which  has  been  suggested,  or  to  transfer  it  to  some  other 
part  of  such  subject,  and  thus  to  direct  and  to  regulate 
the  whole  train  of  mental  action.  But  the  moment  we 
are  soundly  asleep,  this  influence  ceases,  and  hence,  in 
connexion  with  the  other  cause  already  mentioned,  arise 
the  wildness,  incoherency,  and  contradictions  which  exist 

A  person,  while  he  is  awake,  has  his  thoughts  under 
such  government,  and  is  able,  by  the  direct  and  indirect 
influence  of  volitions,  so  to  regulate  them  as  generally  to 
bring  them  in  the  end  to  some  conclusion,  which  he  fore- 
sees and  wishes  to  arrive  at.  But  in  dreaming,  as  all  di- 
recting and  governing  influence,  both  internal  and  exter- 
nal, is  at  an  end,  our  thoughts  and  feelings  seem  to  be 
d liven  forward,  much  like  a  ship  at  sea  without  a  rudder, 
wherever  it  may  happen. 

(}  98.  Apparent  reality  of  dreams.     (1st  cause.) 

When  objects  are  presented  to  us  in  dreams,  we  look 
upon  them  as  real ;  and  events,  and  combinations  and  se- 
ries of  events  appear  the  same.  We  feel  the  same  inter- 
est and  resort  to  the  same  expedients  as  in  the  perplexi- 
ties and  enjoyments  of  real  life.  When  persons  are  intro- 
duced as  forming  a  part  in  the  transactions  of  our  dreams, 
we  see  them  clearly  in  their  living  attitudes  and  stature ; 
we  converse  with  them,  and  hear  them  speak,  and  be- 
hold them  move,  as  if  actually  present. 

One  reason  of  this  greater  vividness  of  our  dreaming 
conceptions  and  of  our  firm  belief  in  their  reality  seems  to 
be  this.  The  subjects  upon  which  our  thoughts  are  then 
employed,  occupy  the  mind  exclusively.  We  can  form  a 
clearer  conception  of  an  object  with  our  eyes  shut  than  we 
can  with  them  open,  as  any  one  will  be  convinced  on  ma- 
king the  experiment ;  and  the  liveliness  of  the  conception 
will  increase  in  proportion  as  we  can  suspend  the  exer- 
ulse  of  the  other  senses.     In  sound  sleep,  not  only  thp 


/  ]  2  DREAMr^«. 

Sight,  but  the  other  senses  also,  may  be  said  to  be  closed 
and  the  attention  is  not  continually  diverted  by  the  multi- 
tude of  objects,  which  arrest  tlie  hearino-  and  touch  when 
we  are  awake. — It  is,  therefore,  a  most  natural  supposi- 
tion, that  our  conceptions  must  at  such  times  be  extreme 
ly  vivid  and  distinct.  At  §  64  we  particularly  remarked 
upon  conceptions,  or  those  ideas  which  w^e  have  of  absent 
objects  of  perception,  which  possess  this  vividness  of  char- 
acter. And  it  there  appeared  that  they  might  be  attend- 
ed with  a  momentary  belief  even  when  we  are  awake 
But  as  conceptions  exist  in  the  mind  w^hen  we  are  asleep 
in  a  much  higher  degree  distinct  and  vivid,  what  was  in 
the  former  case  a  momentary,  becomes  in  the  latter  a  per- 
manent belief.  Hence  everything  has  the  appearance  oi 
reality ;  and  the  mere  thoughts  of  the  mind  are  virtual- 
ly transformed  into  persons,  and  varieties  of  situation,  and 
events,  w^hich  are  regarded  by  us  in  precisely  the  same 
lioht  as  the  persons,  and  situations,  and  events  of  our 
every  day's  experience. 

^  99.  Apparcnl  reality  of  dreams.     (2d  cause  ) 

A  second  circumstance  which  goes  to  account  for  tne 
fact  that  our  dreaming  conceptions  have  the  appearance 
of  reality  is,  that  they  are  not  susceptible  of  being  con- 
trolled, either  directly  or  indirectly,  by  mere  volition. — 
We  are  so  formed  as  almost  invariably  to  associate  reality 
with  whatever  objects  of  perception  continue  to  produce 
in  us  the  same  effects.  A  hard  or  soft  body,  or  any  sub- 
stance of  a  particular  colour,  or  taste,  or  smell,  are  always, 
when  presented  to  our  senses,  followed  by  certain  states 
of  mind  essentially  the  same;  and  w^e  yield  the  most 
ready  and  firm  belief  in  the  existence  of  such  objects. 
In  a  word,  w^e  are  disposed,  from  our  very  constitution,  to 
believe  in  the  existence  of  objects  of  perception,  the  per- 
ceptions of  which  do  not  depend  on  the  will,  but  which 
we  find  to  be  followed  by  certain  states  of  the  mind, 
v^'hether  we  choose  it  or  not. — But  it  is  to  be  recollected 
that  our  dreaming  thoughts  are  mere  conceptions ;  our 
senses  being  closed  and  shut  up,  and  external  objects  not 
being  presented  to  them.  This  is  true.  But  if  we  con* 
elude  in  favour  of  the  real  existence  of  cbjects  of  percept 


DREAMirNG.  1 13 

tion,  because  they  produce  in  us  stinsatioiis  independently 

of  our  volitions,  it  is  but  natural  to  suppose  that  we  shal' 
believe  in  the  reality  of  our  conceptions  also  whenever 
they  are  in  like  manner  beyond  our  voluntary  control 
They  are  both  merely  states  of  the  mind ;  and  if  belief 
always  attends  our  perceptions,  Avherever  we  find  them  to 
be  independent  of  our  choice,  there  is  no  reason  why 
conceptions,  which  are  ideas  of  absent  objects  of  percep- 
tion, should  not  be  attended  with  a  like  belief  under  the 
same  circumstances. — And  essentially  the  same  circum- 
stances exist  in  dreaming ;  that  is,  a  train  of  conceptions 
arise  in  the  mind,  and  we  are  not  conscious  at  such  times 
/"•f  relng  able  to  exercise  any  direction  or  control  what- 
ever over  them.  They  exist,  whether  we  will  or  not ;  and 
we  regard  them  as  real. 

^  100.  Of  our  estimate  of  time  in  dreaming. 

Our  estimate  of  time  in  dreaming  differs  from  that  when 
awake.  Events  wdiich  would  take  whole  days  or  a  lon- 
ger time  in  the  performance,  are  dreamed  in  a  few  mo- 
ments. So  wonderful  is  this  compression  of  a  multitude 
of  transactions  into  the  very  shortest  period,  that,  when 
we  are  accidentally  awakened  by  the  jarring  of  a  door 
which  is  opened  into  the  room  where  we  are  sleeping,  we 
sometimes  dream  of  depredations  by  thieves  or  destruction 
by  fire  in  the  very  instant  of  our  awaking. — "  A  friend  of 
fiiine,"  says  Dr.  Abercrombie,  "  dreamed  that  he  crossed 
the  Atlantic,  and  spent  a  fortnight  in  America.  In  em- 
barking on  his  return,  he  fell  into  the  sea ;  and,  having 
awoke  wdth  the  fright,  discovered  that  he  had  not  been 
asleep  above  ten  minutes."  Count  Lavallette,  who  some 
j-ears  since  was  condemned  to  death  in  France,  relates  a 
dream  which  occurred  during  his  imprisonment  as  fol- 
loAvs.  "  One  night  while  I  was  asleep,  the  clock  of  the 
Palais  de  Justice  struck  twel  vc  and  awoke  me.  I  heard  the 
gate  open  to  relieve  the  sentry ;  but  I  fell  asleep  again  im- 
mediately. In  this  sleep  I  dreamed  that,  I  was  standing  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore,  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  I'Echelle. 
A  melancholy  darkness  spread  around  me ;  all  was  still  ; 
nevertheless,  a  low  and  uncertain  sound  soon  arose.  All 
i\i'  a  sudden,  I  perceived  at  the  bottom  of  the  street,  ancJ 
K  2 


]  1  -I  DREAjy.lNG 

advancing  lowards  lue,  a  troop  of  cavalry,  the  men  and 
horses,  however,  all  flayed,  llils  horrible  troop  continu* 
ed  passing  in  a  rapid  gallop,  and  casting  Irightful  IooIm 
on  me.  Their  march,  I  thought,  continued  for  five  hom^; 
and  they  were  followed  by  an  immense  number  of  artilie- 
ry-wagons  full  of  bleeding  corpses,  whose  limbs  still  quiver- 
ed;  a  disgusting  smell  of  blood  and  bitumen  almost  choked 
me.  At  length,  the  iron  gate  of  the  prison  shutting  with 
great  force,  awoke  me  again.  I  made  my  repeater  strike ; 
it  was  no  more  than  midnight,  so  that  the  horrible  phan- 
tasmagoria had  lasted  no  more  than  two  or  three  minutes ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  time  necessary  for  reheving  the  sentry 
and  shuttiag  the  gate.  The  cold  was  severe  ana  the 
watchword  short.  The  next  day  the  turnkey  confirmed 
my  calculations." 

Our  dreams  will  not  unfrcqucntly  go  through  all  the 
particulars  of  some  long  journey,  or  of  some  military  ex- 
pedition, or  of  a  circumnavigation  of  the  globe,  or  of  oth- 
er long  and  perilous  undertakings,  in  a  less  number  of 
hours  than  it  took  weeks,  or  months,  or  even  years  in  the 
actual  performance  of  them.  We  go  from  land  to  land, 
and  from  city  to  city,  and  into  desert  places  ;  we  "experi- 
ence transitions  from  joy  to  sorrow  and  from  poverty  to 
wealth ;  we  are  occupied  in  the  scenes  and  transactions 
of  many  long  months  ;  and  then  our  slumbers  are  scatter- 
ed, and  behold,  they  are  the  doings  of  a  fleeting  watct  of 
the  night ! 

^101.  Explanation  of  the  preceding  statements. 

This  striking  circumstance  m  the  history  of  our  dreams 
is  generally  explained  by  supposing  that  our  thoughts,  as 
thoj  successively  cccupy  the  mind,  are  more  rapid  than 
while  we  are  a\>ake.  But  their  rapidity  is  at  all  times 
ve.y  jreat ;  so  much  so,  that,  in  a  few  moments,  crowds 
of  ideas  pass  through  the  mind  which  it  would  take  a 
long  time  to  utter,  and  a  far  longer  time  v^ould  it  take  to 
perform  all  the  transactions  which  they  concern.  This 
explanation,  therefore,  is  not  satisfa<'.tory,  for  our  thoughts 
are  oftentimes  equally  rapid  in  our  waking  moments. 

The  true  reason,  we  apprehend,  is  to  be  found  in  those 
preceding  sections  which  took  under  examination  the  aj)- 


PRKAMINa.  ]|ft 

patent  reaiity  of  dr«.>ams.  Our  conceptions  m  dreaming 
are  considered  by  us  real ;  every  thought  is  an  action ; 
every  idea  is  aa  event ;  and  successive  states  of  mind  are 
successive  actions  and  successive  events.  He  who  in  his 
sleep  has  the  conception  of  all  the  particulars  of  a  long 
military  expedition  or  of  a  circumnavigation  of  the  globe, 
seems  to  himself  to  have  actually  experienced  all  the 
various  and  multiplied  fortunes  of  the  one  and  the  other. 
Hence  what  appears  to  be  the  real  tim.e  in  dreams,  but  is 
only  the  apparent  time,  will  not  be  that  which  is  sulli- 
cient  for  the  mere  thought,  but  that  which  is  necessary  fev 
the  successive  actions. 

"  Something  perfectly  analogous  to  this  may  be  re 
marked,"  says  Mr.  Stewart,  "  in  the  perceptions  we  ob- 
tain by  the  sense  of  sight.*  When  I  look  into  a  show- 
box  where  the  deception  is  im})erfect,  I  see  only  a  set  of 
paltry  daubings  of  a  few  inches  in  diameter ;  but  if  the 
representation  be  executed  with  so  much  skill  as  to  con- 
v^ey  to  me  the  idea  of  a  distant  prospect,  every  object 
before  me  swells  in  its  dimensionjs  in  propoition  to  the 
extent  of  space  which  I  concave  it  to  occupy ;  and  what 
seemed  before  to  be  shut  within  the  limits  of  a  small 
wooden  frame,  is  magniked  in  my  apprehension  to  au 
ieamariRe  landscape  of  woods,  rivers,  and  moimtains.'' 

Stewfirt'a  ElaTient*,  chapter  on  Dresosirg. 


M  E  N  T  A  1.     r  li  I  L  O  S  O  V  H  Y 


DIVISION   FIRST. 
THE  LN'TELLECT  OR  UNDERSTANDINU. 

tWTELLECTIVE  OR  INTELLECTUAL  STATKS  OF  THE  MIND. 


PART   SECOND. 
INTELLECTUAL  STATES  OF  INTERNAL  ORIGIN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTE5NAL   ORIGIN   OF    KVOMl.EIOE. 

$   102.  The  so'i.I  has  fountains  of  knowledge  within. 

We  have  traced  the  history  of  the  mind  thus  lai*  with 
continued  and  ircreased  satisfaction,  because  we  have 
been  guided  solely  by  wcll-ivnown  facts,  without  any  de- 
sire of  exciting  wonder  by  exaggeration,  and  with  no 
other  feeling  than  that  of  knowing  the  truth.  With  cau- 
tious endeavours  not  to  trespass  upon  those  limits  which 
the  Creator  himself  has  set  to  our  inquiries,  we  have  seer. 
the  mind  placed  in  the  position  of  a  necessary  connexion 
with  the  material  world  through  the  medium  of  the 
senses,  and  in  this  way  awakened  into  life,  activity,  and 
power.  Inanimate  matter  seems  to  have  been  designed 
and  appointed  by  Providence  as  the  handmaid  and  nurse 
of  the  mind  in  the  days  of  its  infancy  ;  and  for  that  pur- 
pose to  have  been  endued  with  form,  fragrance,  and 
colour.  Material  eyes  were  given  to  the  soul,  (not  made 
a  part  of  its  nature,  but  assigned  to  it  as  an  instrumental 
and  auxiliary  agent,)  that  it  might  see ;  and  material 
hands,  that  it  might  handle ;  and  hearing,  that  it  might 
hear.  By  means  of  these  and  other  senses  w^e  become 
acquainted  with  w^hatever  is  visible  and  tangible,  and  has 
outline  and  form ;  but  there  are  also  inward  powers  of 
perception,  hidden  fountains  of  knowledge,  which  open 
themselves  and  flow  up  in  the  remote  and  secret  places 
of  the  soul.  In  other  words,  the  soul  finds  knowledge  in 
itself  which  neither  sight,  nor  touch,  nor  hearing,  nor  any 
other  sense,  nor  any  outward  forms  of  matter,  could  give. 

"  The  natural  progress  of  all  true  learning,"  says  the 
author  of  Hermes,  "  is  from  sense  to  intellect."  Having 
begun  with  the  senses,  and  first  considered  the  sensations 
and  ideas  which  we  there  receive,  we  are  next  to  enter 
more  exclusively  into  the  mind  itself,  and  to  explore  the 
fruitful  sources  of  knowledge  which  are  in'ernal.  And 
in   thas  doing,  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  know  Ihat  we  are 


120  IN1KKNAL    ORIGIN    OF    KNOWLEDGE. 

»readin<^  essentially  in  the  steps  of  Mr.  Locke,  vv'hose 
general  doctrine  undoubtedly  is,  that  a  part  of  our  ideas 
anly  may  be  traced  to  the  senses,  and  that  the  origin  of 
others  is  to  be  sought  wholly  in  the  intellect  itself. 

^  103.  Declaration  of  Locke,  that  the  soul  has  knowledge  in  itself. 

After  alluding  to  the  senses  as  one  great  source  of 
knowledge,  "  the  other  fountain,"  says  Locke,  "  from 
which  experience  furnisheth  the  understanding  with  ideas, 
is  the  perception  of  the  operations  of  our  own  minds 
vvithin  us,  as  it  is  employed  about  the  ideas  it  has  got ; 
which  operations,  when  the  soul  comes  to  reflect  on  and 
consider,  do  furnish  the  understanding  with  another  set 
of  ideas,  which  could  not  be  had  from  things  without,  and 
such  are  perception,  thinking,  doubting,  believing,  reason- 
ing, knowing,  willing,  and  all  the  different  actings  of  our 
own  minds,  which,  we  being  conscious  of,  and  observing 
tin  ourselves,  do  from  these  receive  into  our  understand- 
ings ideas  as  distinct  as  we  do  from  bodies  affecting  our 
senses.  This  source  of  ideas  every  man  has  wholly  with- 
(11  himself  And  though  it  be  not  sense,  as  having  no- 
ihlng  to  do  with  external  objects,  yet  it  is  very  like  it, 
und  might  properly  enough  be  called  internal  sense. 
But  as  I  call  the  other  Sensation,  so  I  call  this  Reflection ; 
the  ideas  it  affords  being  such  only  as  the  mind  gets  by 
•"^fleeting  on  its  own  operations  within  itself." 

^   104.   The  lieginning  of  knowledge  is  in  the  senses. 

In  order  to  have  a  clear  understanding  of  the  particu- 
lar topic  before  us,  let  ui  briefly  advert  to  certain  general 
views,  already  more  or  less  attended  to,  having  a  con- 
nexion with  it.  In  making  the  human  soul  a  subject  of 
inquiry,  it  is  an  obvious  consideration  that  a  distinctioa 
may  be  drawn  between  the  soul  contemplated  m  itself, 
and  its  acts  or  states,  or  the  knowledge  which  it  possess- 
es. The  inquiry,  therefore,  naturally  arises,  Under  what 
circmnstances  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  begins  ? 

Now  this  IS  the  very  question  which  has  already  been 
considered ;  nor  can  it  be  deemed  necessary  to  repeat 
here  the  onsiderations  which  have  been  brought  up  in 
rpftieuce  to  it.     It  is  enough  fo  express  ouj-  conl'nued  re~ 


INTERNAL    ORIGIN    UF    ICNOWLElXJE  J21 

liaiice  on  the  general  experience  and  testimony  of  man 
kind,  so  far  as  it  is  possible  to  ascertain  them  on  a  subject 
of  so  much  difficuhy,  that  the  beginnings  of  thought  and 
knowledge  are  immediately  subsequent  to  certain  afiiec- 
tions  of  those  bodily  organs  which  we  call  the  senses.  In 
other  words,  were  it  not  for  impressions  on  the  senses, 
which  may  be  traced  to  objects  external  to  thesi,  our 
mental  capabilities,  whatever  they  may  be,  would  in  all 
nrobability  haA^e  remained  folded  up,  and  have  never 
been  redeemed  from  a  state  of  fruitless  inaction. — Hence 
the  process  which  is  implied  in  the  perception  of  external 
things,  or  what  is  commonly  termed  by  Mr.  Locke  sensa- 
tion, may  justly  be  considered  the  occasion  or  the  intro- 
•iuctory  step  to  all  our  knowledge. 

<)  105.   There  may  also  be  internal  accessions  to  knowledge 

But  it  does  not  follow  from  this,  nor  is  it  by  any  meam* 
irue,  that  the  whole  amount  of  knowdedge  in  its  ultimate 
;>rogress  is  to  be  ascribed  directly  to  an  external  source. 
All  that  can  be  said  with  truth  is,  that  the  mmd  receives 
che  earliest  part  of  its  ideas  by  means  of  the  senses,  and 
ihat,  in  consequence  of  having  received  these  elementary 
thoughts,  all  its  powers  become  rapidly  and  fully  opera- 
tive.— And  here  we  come  to  the  second  great  source  of 
knowledge.  The  powers  of  the  mmd  being  thus  fairly 
brought  into  exercise,  its  various  operations  then  ftirnish 
us  with  another  set  of  notions,  which,  by  way  of  distin- 
guishing them  from  those  received  through  the  direct 
mediation  of  the  senses,  may  be  called,  in  the  language 
of  Mr.  Locke,  ideas  of  reflection,  or,  to  use  a  phraseology 
eiiibracing  all  possible  cases,  ideas  of  inteknal  origin. 

These  two  sources  of  human  thought,  the  Internal  and 
Txternal,  however  they  may  have  been  confounded  by 
some  writers,  are  entirely  distinct.  The  ideas  which  arise 
m  the  mind,  solely  from  the  fact  of  the  previous  existence 
of  certain  mental  operations,  could  not  have  been  sug- 
gested by  anything  which  takes  place  in  the  external 
world  independently  of  those  operations*  Of  this  last 
«'l2ss,  some  instances,  with  illustrations'  of  ^he  same,  may 
properly  be  mentioned  here. 


12?  IKTESNAL    OKiGlN    OP    KNOWlE^rtv. 

()  106.  Instances  of  notions  which  have  an  inter  \il  origin. 
Ainong  other  notions  which  are  to  be  »f>i,\ibed  to  the 
second  great  source,  are  those  expressed   bj  the  terms 

THINKING,    DOUBTING,    BELIEVING,    and    CERTAINTY. It   IS    3 

matter  of  internal  observation,  (that  is,  of  consciousness 
or  of  reilection,  which  are  synonymous  w^ith  internal  ob- 
servation,) that  the  mind  does  not,  and  cannot.,  for  any 
length  of  time,  remain  inactive.  Hence  there  is  occasion 
given  for  the  origin  of  that  idea  which  we  denominate 
THINKING.  The  notion  which  we  thus  denominate  is  fra 
med  by  the  mind  under  these  circumstances ;  the  name  is 
given,  and  nobody  is  ignorant  as  to  what  is  meant  But 
then  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  its  origin  is  wholly  internal ; 
it  is  not  an  object  of  touch,  or  taste,  or  sight ;  it  is  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  mind  itself  alone,  and  to  its  inhereut  ac- 
tivity, unaided  by  the  senses,  or  by  anything  operp.ting 
upon  them. 

Again,  in  the  examination  of  some  topic  which  is  pro- 
posed for  discussion,  a  proposition  is  stated  with  little  or 
no  evidence  attending  it,  arid  the  mind,  in  reference  to 
that  proposition,  is  brought  into  a  position  to  which  we 
give  the  name  of  douhting.  It  is  by  no  means  easy,  or 
rather  it  is  impossible,  to  trace  this  idea  directly  to  the 
senses.  All  we  can  say  of  it  is,  that  it  has  its  origin 
within,  and  necessarily  exists  immediately  subsequent  t 
certain  other  mental  states  of  which  we  are  conscious. 

But  then,  in  ^his  very  instance,  if  the  evidence  be  con- 
siderably increased,  the  mental  estimation  which  we  form 
is  altered  in  regard  to  it,  and  to  this  new  state  of  the  m."n.<i 
we  give  the  name  of  belief  or  believing.  And  in  case  trj ' 
evidence  of  the  proposition  is  of  a  higher  and  more  deci 
ded  character,  there  then  arises  another  state  of  the  mind 
which  we  denominate  certainty. 

;  107.  Other  instances  of  ideas  which  have  an  internal  origin. 

The  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  of  unity  and  nmnber,  oi 
time  and  space,  order,  proportion,  similitude,  truth,  wis 
dom,  power,  obligation,  succession,  cause,  effect,  an(? 
many  others,  have  a  like  origin ;  at  least  there  are  none 
of  them  to  be  ascribed  directly  and  exclusively  to  the 
senses. — It  is  cheerfully  granted  that,  in  determininp;  this 


SUGGESTION,   OR   THE    1XTIT7TIOXAI.    POAVEK.        12?) 

point,  it  is  proper  \o  refer  to  the  common  experience  of 
mankind,  and  to  rely  upon  it.  But  it  is  believed  in  all 
these  instances,  (certainly  in  the  most  of  them,)  such  a 
reference  will  be  amply  decisive. 

J<et  it  then  be  left  to  the  candid  internal  examination 
or  each  individual  to  determine.  Whether  a  distinction 
be  not  rightly  drawn  between  the  origin  of  these  ideas 
and  that  of  those  which  we  attribute  to  the  senses,  such 
as  red,  blue,  sweet,  fragrant,  bitter,  hard,  smooth,  loud, 
soft,  extended,  &c.  1  On  this  question  it  is  thought  that, 
in  general,  there  can  be  but  one  answer,  althor.gh  soma 
writers,  through  the  love  of  excessive  simplification,  have 
been  betrayed  into  error  in  regard  to  it. 

Hence  it  is  distinctly  to  be  kept  in  mind,  that  there  are 
two  sources  of  thought  and  knowledge.  An  affection  of 
the  senses  by  means  of  external  objects  is  the  immediate 
occasion  of  one  portion ;  the  constitution  of  the  mind  and 
its  operations  are  the  occasions  or  source  of  the  other. 
Those  notions  which  can  be  ascribed  directly  to  any  one 
of  the  senses  as  their  specific  source,  and  not  merely  as 
an  indirect  and  general  occasion  of  their  origin,  are  Ex- 
ternal, while  all  others  seem  to  be  entitled  to  be  called 
Internal. 


CHAPTER  n 

SUGGESTIOX,  OK    THE    INTUITIONAL    POWER. 
(i  108.   Import  of  suggestion,  and  its  application  in  Reid  and  Stevvaii 

Some  of  the  cases  of  thought  and  knowledge  which  tht 
mind  becomes  possessed  of  in  itself,  without  the  direct 
aid  of  the  senses,  are  to  be  ascribed  to  Suggestion.  Thi? 
<vord,  in  its  application  here,  is  used  merely  to  express  a 
simple  but  important  fact,  viz.,  that  the  mind,  by  its  owti 
acti\aty  and  vigour,  gives  rise  to  certain  thoughts.  With* 
out  any  mixture  of  hypothesis,  or  any  qualifying  intima 
tion  whatever,  it  gives  the  fact,  and  that  is  all.  The  ust 
of  this  word,  as  applicable  to  the  origin  of  a  portion  oi 
human  knowledge,  is  distinctly  proposed  by  Dr.  ReiH 


124  SUGGESTION, 

In  his  [nquiry  into  the  Human  Mind,  (c.i.  ii.,  §  ui,,)  he 
speaks  of  certain  notions  (for  instance,  those  of  existence, 
mind,  person,  &c.)  as  the  "judgments  of  nature,  judg- 
ments not  got  by  comparing  ideas,  and  perceiving  agree- 
ments and  disagreements,  but  immediately  inspired  b} 
our  constitution."  Pursuing  this  train  of  thought,  he 
ascribes  those  notions  which  cannot  be  attributed  directly 
to  the  senses  on  the  one  hand,  nor  to  the  reasoning  power 
on  the  other,  to  an  internal  or  mental  Suggestion,  as  fol- 
lows.— "  I  beg  leave  to  make  use  of  the  word  suggestion, 
because  I  know  not  one  more  proper,  to  express  a  power 
of  the  mind  which  seems  entirely  to  have  escaped  the 
notice  of  philosophers,  and  to  which  we  ow^e  many  of  oor 
simple  notions." 

Mr.  Stewart  also,  in  his  Philosophical  Essays,  speaks 
of  certain  mental  phenomena  as  attendant  upon  the  ob- 
jects of  our  consciousness,  and  as  suggested  by  them. 
The  notions  of  time,  number,  motion,  memory,  sameness, 
personal  identity',  present  existence,  &c.,  he  ascribes  nei- 
ther to  the  external  world  on  the  one  hand,  nor  the  in- 
ternal mental  operations,  of  which  we  are  conscious,  on 
the  other;  except  so  far  as  they  are  the  occasions  on 
which  the  mind  brings  them  out,  or  suggests  them  from 
its  own  inherent  energy.  Of  the  notion  of  duration,  for 
Instance,  he  would  say,  I  do  not  see  it,  nor  hear  it,  nor 
feel  it,  nor  become  acquainted  with  it  by  means  of  any 
other  of  the  senses ;  nor  am  I  conscious  of  it,  as  I  am  of 
Delieving,  reasoning,  imagining,  &c.,  but  it  is  suggested 
by  the  mind  itself.  Some  other  writers,  with  the  same 
meaning,  would  prefer  to  say,  it  is  intuitioned. 

6   109.  Ideas  of  existence,  mind,  self-existence,  and  personal  identity 

We  shall  now  mention  a  few  ideas  which  have  this  ori- 
gin, without  undertaking  to  give  a  complete  enumeration 
jf  them.  (I.)  Existence.  Among  the  various  notions, 
the  origin  of  which  naturally  requires  to  be  considered 
mdei  the  head  of  Suggestion,  is  that  of  Existence.  What 
existence  is  in  itself,  (that  is  to  say,  independently  of 
my  existent  being,)  it  would  be  useless  to  inquire.  Using 
the  word  as  expressive  of  a  mental  state,  it  is  the  namf 
nf  a  purely  simple  idea,  and  cannot  be  defined.      The 


OR    THE    INTUITIONAL    POWER.  125 

histoiy  of  its  rise  is  briefly  this.  Such  is  our  nature  that 
wo  cannot  exist,  without  having  the  notion  of  existence. 
So  that  the  origin  of  the  idea  of  existence  is  inseparable 
from  the  mere  fact,  that  we  have  a  percipient  and  sen- 
tient nature.  An  insentient  being  may  exist  without  hav- 
mg  any  such  idea.  But  man,  being  constituted  with 
powp's  of  perception,  cannot  help  perceiving  that  he  is 
Avhac  he  is.  If  we  think,  then  there  is  something  which 
hds  this  cajiability  of  thought ;  if  we  feel,  then  there  ia 
not  only  the  mere  act  of  feeling,  but  something  also  whicia 
puts  forth  the  act. 

(11.)  Mind.  The  origin  of  the  notion  of  Mind  is  siiii 
ilar  to  that  of  existence.  Neither  of  them  can  be  strict- 
ly and  properly  referred  to  the  senses.  We  do  not  set 
the  mind,  nor  is  it  an  object  of  touch,  or  of  taste,  or  of 
any  other  sense.  Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  notion 
of  mind  a  direct  object  of  the  memory,  or  of  reasoning, 
or  of  imagination.  The  notion  arises  naturally,  or  is 
SUGGESTED  from  the  mere  fact  that  the  mind  actually  ex- 
ists, and  is  susceptible  of  various  feelings  and  operations. 
— ^The  same  may  be  said  of  all  the  distinct  powers  of  the 
mind,  such  as  the  power  of  perception,  of  memoiy,  of 
association,  of  imagination,  of  the  will ;  not  of  the  ads 
or  exercises  of  these  powers,  it  will  be  noticed,  but  of 
the  powers  themselves.  That  is  to  say,  they  are  made 
known  to  us,  considered  abstractly  and  as  distinct  subjects 
of  thought,  not  by  dir-ed  perception,  either  inward  or 
outward,  but  by  spontaneity  or  suggestion.  We  say,  not 
by  dired  perception,  because  there  is  something  interme- 
diate between  the  power  and  the  knowledge  of  it,  viz., 
the  act  or  exercise  of  the  power,  which  is  the  occasion  ol 
the  knowledge  of  the  power  itself  The  principle  of 
Suo-gestion  or  Intuition,  availing  itself  of  this  occasion, 
gives  us  a  knowledge  of  the  distinct  susceptibilities  of 
the  mind,  just  as  it  does  of  the  mind  as  a  whole. 

(III.)  Similar  remarks,  as  far  as  spontaneity  is  con- 
cerned, will  apply  to  the  notions  (whether  we  consider 
them  as  simple  or  complex)  of  self-existence  and  per- 
sonal IDENTITY.  At  the  very  earliest  period  they  flow 
out,  as  it  were,  from  the  mind  itself;  not  resulting  from 
any  prolonged  and  laborious  procesSjbut  freely  and  spon- 

L  2 


126  SUCGESTIOX, 

taneovisly  suggtsted  by  it.  This  is  s^i  true,  tliat  l-5  one  la 
able  to  designate  either  the  precise  time  or  the  precise 
circumstances  under  which  they  originate  ;  for  thoy  spring 
into  being  under  all  circumstances.  We  cannot  look,  or 
touch,  or  breathe,  or  move,  or  think  without  them. 
These  are  products  of  our  mental  nature  too  essential  and 
important  to  be  withheld,  or  to  be  given  only  on  rare 
and  doubtful  occasions  ;  but  are  brought  into  existence  in 
all  times  and  places,  and  under  all  the  varieties  of  action 
and  feeling. 

()  110.   Of  the  nature  of  unity,  and  the  origin  of  that  notioi. 

Another  important  notion,  properly  entitled  to  a  con- 
sideration here,  is  that  of  unity.  We  shall  decline  at- 
tempting to  explain  the  nature  of  unity,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  nothing  is  more  easy  to  be  understood  ;  every 
child  knows  what  is  meant  by  One.  And  how  can  we 
explain  it,  if  we  would  1  We  can  explain  a  hundred  by 
resolving  it  into  parts ;  we  can  explain  fifty  or  a  score 
by  making  a  like  separation  of  the  whole  number  into 
the  subordinate  portions  of  which  it  is  made  up ;  but 
w^hen  we  arrive  at  unity,  we  must  stop,  and  can  go  no 
further. 

It  is  true,  attempts  have  been  marie  to  define  it ;  but, 
like  many  other  such  attempts,  they  have  proved  futile. 
Unity  has  been  called  a  thing  indivisible  in  itself,  and  di- 
vided from  everything  else.  But  this  makes  us  no  wiser 
Is  it  anything  more  than  to  say  that  the  unity  of  an  ob- 
ject is  its  indivisibility  ?  Or,  in  other  words,  that  its  unity- 
is  its  unity  ? 

As  the  idea  of  unity  is  one  of  the  simplest,  so  it  is  one 
of  the  earliest  notions  which  men  have.  It  originates  in 
the  same  way,  and  very  nearly  at  the  same  time,  with  the 
notions  of  existence,  self-existence,  personal  identity,  and 
the  like.  When  a  man  has  a  notion  of  himself,  he  evi- 
dently does  not  think  of  himself  as  two,  three,  or  a  dozen 
men,  but  as  one.  As  soon  as  he  is  able  to  think  of  him- 
self as  distinct  from  his  neio'hbour,  as  soon  as  he  is  in 
no  danger  of  mingling  and  confounding  his  own  identity 
with  that  of  the  multitude  around  him,  so  soon  does  he 
form  the  notion  of  unity.      It  exists  as  distinct  in  his 


OR    THE    INTUITIONAL    POAVER.  127 

mind  as  the  idea  of  his  own  existence  docs;  and  arises 
there  immediately  successive  to  that  idea,  because  it  ia 
impossible,  in  the  nature  of  things,  that  he  should  have  a 
notion  of  himself  as  a  twofold  or  divided  person. 

Unity  is  the  fundamental  element  of  all  enunaeration. 
By  the  repetition  or  adding  of  this  element,  we  are  able 
to  foim  numbers  to  any  extent.  These  numbers  may  be 
combined  among  themselves,  and  employed  merely  as 
expressive  of  mutual  relations,  or  we  may  apply  them,  if 
we  choose,  to  all  external  objects  whatever,  to  which  we 
ire  able  to  give  a  common  name. 
» 

{)  111.  Nature  of  succession,  and  origin  of  the  idea  of  succession. 

Another  of  those  conceptions  which  naturally  offer 
diemselves  to  our  notice  here,  is  that  of  succession.  This 
term  (when  we  inquire  what  succession  is  in  itself)  is  one 
of  gt;neral  application,  expressive  of  a  mode  of  exist- 
ence rather  than  of  existence  itself;  and  in  its  appli- 
cation to  mind  in  particular,  expressive  of  a  condition 
df  the  mind's  action,  but  not  of  the  action  itself,  which 
diat  condition  regulates.  It  is  certainly  a  fact  too  well, 
known  to  require  comment,  that  our  minds  exist  at  differ- 
ent periods  in  successive  states  ;  that  our  thoughts  and 
feelings,  in  obedience  to  a  permanent  law,  follow  each 
other  "in  a  train.  This  is  the  simple  fact.  And  the  fact 
of  such  succession,  whenever  it  takes  place,  forms  the  oc- 
casion on  which  tlie  notion  or  idea  of  succession  is  sug- 
gested or  intuitioned  to  the  mind.  Being  a  simple 
mental  state,  it  is  not  susceptible  of  definition  ;  yet  ev- 
ery man  possesses  it,  and  every  one  is  rigiitiy  supposed 
to  understand  its  nature. 

Accordingly,  ii  is  not  necessary  to  refer  the  origin  of 
this  idea  to^  anything  external.  It  is  certain,  that  the 
Bonse  of  smell  cannot  directly  give  us  the  idea  of  succes- 
sion, nor  the  sense  of  taste,  nor  of  touch.  And  we  well 
know  that  the  deaf  and  dumb  possess  it  not  less  than 
others.  Th(;  blind  also,  who  have  never  seen  the  face  of 
heaven,  nor  beheld  that  sun  and  moon  which  measure 
out  for  us  days,  and  months,  and  years,  have  the  notion 
of  succession.  They  feel,  they  i:hink,  they  reason,  a< 
least  in  some  small  degree,  like  other  men;  and  it  is  iro- 


128  SUGGESTION, 

possiLle  that  they  should  be  without  it.  Tht  o  ^m 
therefore,  of  this  notion  is  within  ;  it  is  the  unfaihng  r«- 
sult  of  the  inw^ard  operation  to  call  it  forth,  however  true 
it  may  be,  that  it  is  subsequently  applied  to  outward  ob- 
jects and  events. 

I)   112.   Origin  of  the  notion  ol  duration. 

There  is  usually  understood  to  be  a  listinction  betwocft 
tiie  idea  of  succession  and  that  of  du  ation,  though  nei- 
ther can  be  defined.  The  idea  of  succession  is  suppo- 
sed to  be  antecedent  in  point  of  time  to  that  of  duration 
(we  speak  now  of  succession  and  duration*relatively  to 
our  concejition  of  them,  and  not  in  themselves  consider- 
ed.) Duration  must  be  supposed  to  exist  antecedently  to 
succession  in  the  order  of  nature  ;  but  succession  is  the 
form  in  which  it  is  made  to  apply  to  men ;  and  is,  there- 
fore, naturally  the  occasion  on  which  the  idea  of  it  arises 
in  men's  minds.  Having  the  notion  of  succession,  and 
that  of  personal  or  self-existence,  a  foundation  is  laid  for 
the  additional  conception  of  permanency  or  duratujn  ;  in 
other  words,  it  naturally  arises  in  the  mind,  or  is  suggest- 
ed under  these  circumstances. 

As  we  cannot,  according  to  this  view  of  its  origm, 
have  the  notion  of  duration  without  succession,  hence  it 
happens  that  we  know  nothing  of  duration  when  we  are 
perfectly  asleep,  because  we  are  not  then  conscious 
of  those  intellectual  changes  which  are  involved  in 
succession.  If  a  person  could  sleep  with  a  perfect  sus- 
pension of  all  his  mental  operations  from  this  time  until 
the  resurrection,  the  whole  of  that  period  would  appear 
tc  him  as  nothing.  Ten  thousand  years  passed  under 
siich  circumstances  would  be  less  than  a  few  days,  or 
even  hours. 

^  113.  Illustrations  of  Ihe  nature  of  duration. 

That  the  notion  of  succession  (we  do  not  say  succes- 
sion itself,  but  only  our  notion  or  idea  of  it)  is  antecedent 
to,  and  is  essential  to  that  of  duration,  is  in  some  measure 
proved  by  various  facts.  There  are  on  record  a  numoer 
of  rases  of  remaikable  somnolency,  in  which  persons 
have  slept  foi  weeks  and  even  months      One  of  the  mosi 


OR   THE    INTUITIONAL   POAVER.  129 

BtrikJng  is  that  of  Samuel  Chilton,  a  k'jouier  ol  Tins- 
buiy,  near  Bath  in  England.  On  one  cccasiou,  in  the 
year  1696,  he  slept  from  the  ninth  of  April  to  the  seventh 
of  August,  about  seventeen  weeks,  being  kept  alive  by 
small  quantities  of  wine  poured  down  his  throat.  He 
then  awoke,  dressed  himself,  and  walked  about  the  room, 
•'  being  perfectly  unconscious  that  he  had  slept  more  than 
one  night.  Nothing,  indeed,  could  make  him  believe 
that  he  had  slejjt  so  long,  till,  upon  going  to  the  fields,  he 
saw  crops  of  barley  and  oats  ready  for  the  sickle,  which 
he  remembered  were  only  sow^n  when  he  last  visited 
them." — In  the  proceedings  of  the  French  Royal  Acade- 
my of  Sciences  in  1719,  there  is  also  a  statement,  illustra- 
tive of  the  subject  under  consideration,  to  the  Ibllowing 
effect.  There  was  in  Lausanne  a  nobleman,  who,  as  he 
was  giving  orders  to  a  servant,  suddenly  lost  his  speech 
and  all  his  senses. — Different  remedies  were  tried,  but,  for 
a  very  considerable  time,  without  effect.  For  six  months 
he  appeared  to  be  in  a  deep  sleep,  unconscious  of  every- 
thing. At  the  end  of  that  period,  however,  resort  having 
been  had  to  certain  surgical  operations,  he  was  suddenly 
restored  to  his  speech  and  the  exercise  of  his  understand- 
mg.  When  he  recovered,  the  servant  to  whom  he  had 
been  giving  orders  happening  to  be  in  the  room,  he  ask- 
ed him  if  he  had  done  what  he  had  ordered  him  to  do, 
not  being  sensible  that  any  interval,  except  perhaps  a 
very  short  one,  had  elapsed  during  his  illness. 

()  114.   Of  time  and  its  measurements,  and  of  eternity. 

When  duration  is  estimated  or  measured,  then  we  cab 
it  Time.  Such  measurements,  as  every  one  is  aware,  are 
made  by  means  of  certain  natural  or  artificial  motions. 
The  annual  revolution  of  the  sun  (using  language  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  common  apprehensions  on  the  s  ibject) 
maiks  off  the  portion  of  duration  which  we  call  a  year  ; 
the  revolution  of  the  moon  marks  off  another  portion, 
which  we  call  a  month  ;  the  diurnal  revolution  of  the  sun 
gives  us  the  period  of  a  day  ;  the  movements  of  the 
hands  over  the  face  of  a  clock  or  watch  give  the  dimin- 
ished durations  of  hours  and  minutes.  This  is  time,  which 
differs  irora  du'-ation  only  in  the  circumstance*  of  its  being 
«iea.surrd 


130  SUGGESTION, 

Wlut  we  call  Eternity  is  only  a  modifitd  (ir  irapfirfect 
time,  or,  rather,  time  not  completed.  We  look  back  over 
tlif-  months,  and  days,  and  years  of  our  former  existence  : 
we  look  forward  and  onward,  and  behold  ages  crowding 
on  ages,  and  time  springing  from  time.  And  in  this  way 
we  are  forcibly  led  to  think  of  time  unfinished,  of  time 
progressive  but  never  completed  ;  and  to  this  complex 
aolion  we  give  the  name  of  Eternity 

ij  115.  The  idea  of  space  not  of  external  origin. 

Another  of  those  notions,  the  origin  of  which  we  pro- 
pose to  consider  under  the  head  of  Suggestion,  is  the  idea 
of  SPACE. — If  this  idea  were  of  external  origin,  if  it  could 
properly  be  said  to  come  into  the  mind  by  the  way  of  sen- 
sation, we  should  be  able  to  make  such  a  reference  of  it. 
But  let  us  inquire.  It  will  evidently  not  be  pretended 
that  the  notion  of  space  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  senses  of 
taste,  of  smell,  or  of  hearing.  And  can  it  be  ascribed  to 
the  sense  of  touch  ?  Is  it  a  matter  of  feeling  ?  A  sin- 
gle consideration  will  suggest  a  satisfactory  answ^er.  It 
will  certainly  be  acknowledged,  that  we  can  have  no 
knowledge,  by  the  sense  of  touch,  (with  the  single  excep 
tion,  perihaps,  of  the  sensations  of  heat  and  cold  which 
are  commonly  ascribed  to  it,)  of  anything  w^hich  does 
not  present  some  resistance.  The  degree  of  resistance 
may  greatly  vary,  but  there  will  always  be  some.  But 
no  one  will  undertake  to  say  that  resistance  is  a  quality 
of  space,  or  enters  in  any  way  into  his  notion  of  it. 

Jov  are  there  less  obvious  objections  to  regarding  it  as 
a  direct  object  of  sight.  The  sense  of  sight  gives  us  no 
direct  knowledge  of  anything  but  colours ;  all  other  vis- 
ual perceptions  are  original  in  the  sense  of  touch,  and  are 
made  the  property  of  the  sight  by  transference.  No  one 
certainly  ever  speaks  of  space  as  red  or  white,  or  of  any 
other  colour,  or  conceives  of  it  as  such. 

There  is  another  consideration,  adverse  to  ascribing^  the 
idea  c^f  space  to  the  senses,  apphcable  equally  to  the  sight 
and  the  touch.  Everything  coming  within  the  cogni- 
zance of  those  two  senses,  (with  the  exccjition  already 
alluded  to,)  h^  form,  limits,  bounds,  plaoe,  &c.  But  tlie 
idea  to  which  we  are  now  attentlin£:  is  utterly  excliisivr 


OR   THE    INTTTITIOXAL   POWER,  131 

PI  evei-ything  of  this  nature;  it  is  not  susceptible  of  cir- 
cumscription and  figure.  So  far  from  it,  when  we  escape 
beyond  the  succession  of  circumscribed  and  insulated  ob- 
jects, we  have  but  just  entered  within  its  empire.  If  we 
let  the  mind  range  forth  beyond  the  forms  immediately 
<»urrounding  us,  beyond  the  world  itself,  beyond  all  the 
systems  of  worlds  in  the  universe  .-  if  we  stand  in  our  con- 
ception on  the  verge  of  the  remotest  star,  and  look  down- 
ward and  upward,  it  is  then  the  idea  of  space  rushes 
upon  tlie  mind  with  a  power  before  unknown. — These 
considerations  clearly  lead  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  no- 
tion of  space  is  not  susceptible  of  being  ascribed  directly 
to  sensation  in  any  of  its  forms,  and  is  not,  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  terms,  of  external  origin. 

<j  116.  The  idea  of  space  has  its  origin  in  suggestion. 

What,  then,  shall  we  say  of  the  origin  of  the  notion  ot 
space  ?  When  pressed  on  this  point  we  have  but  one 
tmswer  to  give ;  it  is  the  natural  offspring  of  the  mind  : 
>t  is  a  creation  of  the  soul,  wholly  inseparable  from  its  el- 
'iinentary  constitution  and  action ;  an  intimation  coming 
from  an  interior  and  original  impulse. — It  remains  to  be 
added,  that,  while  we  cannot  directly  refer  the  notion  in 
question  to  the  senses,  but  must  ascribe  its  origin  to  the 
suggestive  principle,  we  cannot  even  state  with  certainty 
any  particular  occasion  on  which  it  arises,  for  we  have  the 
notion  at  a  period  further  back  than  we  can  remember. 
On  this  point,  however,  it  is  undoubtedly  true,  that  we 
may  advance  opinions  more  or  less  probable.  It  is,  for 
instance,  a  supposition  not  altogether  worthless,  that  mo- 
tion may  have  been  the  original  occasion  of  the  rise  of 
this  idea.  At  an  early  period  we  moved  the  hand,  either 
to  gi-asp  something  removed  at  a  little  distance,  or  in  the 
mere  playful  exercise  of  the  muscles,  or  perhaps  we  trans- 
lerred  the  whole  body  from  one  position  to  another ;  and 
it  is  at  least  no  impossibility,  that  on  such  an  occasion  the 
\dea  of  space  may  have  been  called  forth  in  the  s^ml. 

But  there  i?  another  supposition  still  more  entitled  to 
notice.  Our  acquaintance  with  external  bodies,  by  means 
of  the  senses,  may  have  been  the  occasdoii  of  its  rise,  al- 
though the  senses  tliemselves  are  no+  its  diiect  source.     It 


132  SUGGESTION, 

is  certain  that  we  cannot  contemplate  any  bovly  whatevei 
an  apple,  a  rose,  a  tree,  a  house,  without  always  findino 
fhe  idea  of  space  a  ready  and  necessary  concomitant. 
We  cannot  conceiA^e  of  a  body  which  is  nowhere.  ISo 
tliat  we  may  at  least  date  the  origin  of  the  idea  of 
space  as  early  as  our  acquaintance  with  any  external  body 
whatever.  In  other  words,  it  is  a  gift  of  the  mind,  made 
simultaneously  wdth  its  earliest  external  perceptions. 

ij  \n.  Of  the  origin  of  the  idea  of  power. 

Under  the  head  of  Suggestion  the  idea  of  power  prop- 
erly belongs.  Every  man  has  this  notion;  every  one 
feels,  too,  that  there  is  a  corresponding  reality ;  in  other 
words,  power  is  not  only  a  mere  subject  of  thought,  but 
has,  in  some  important  sense,  a  real  existence.  And  we 
may  add,  that  every  one  knows,  although  there  is  some- 
where a  great  original  fountain  of  power,  independent  of 
all  created  beings,  that  he  has  a  portion  (small  indeed  it 
may  be,  but  yet  a  portion)  of  the  element  of  power  in 
his  own  mind  and  in  his  own  person.  There  is  indeed  a 
Power,  unexplored  and  invisible,  which  has  reared  the 
mountains,  which  rolls  the  ocean,  and  which  propels  the 
sun  in  his  course ;  but  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that  man, 
humble  as  he  is  in  the  scale  of  rational  and  accountable 
beings,  possesses,  as  an  attribute  of  his  own  nature,  an 
amount  of  real  efficiency,  suited  to  the  limited  sphere 
which  Providence  has  allotted  him.  This  is  a  simple 
statement  of  the  fact.  Power  goes  hand  in  hand  with 
existence,  intelligence,  and  accountability.  There  is  no 
existence,  either  intelligent  or  unintelligent,  without  pow- 
er, either  in  the  thing  itself,  or  in  something  else  wdiich 
sustains  it.  There  is  no  accountable  existence  without 
power,  existing  in  and  paiticipating  in  such  existence, 
«5d  constituting  the  basis  of  its  accountability. 

^  1  IS.  Occasions  of  the  origin  of  the  idea  of  power. 

But  the  principal  question  here  is,  not  what  power  is 
m  itself,  nor  whether  man  possesses  power  in  fact,  but 
vinder  what  circumstances  the  notion  or  idea  of  power 
anses  in  the  human  mind.  The  f;cca.sions  of  the  origin 
af  this  idea,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  appear  to  b« 


OR   THE    INTUITIONAL   POWER.  133 

tnreetokl — (1.)  All  cases  of  antecedence  and  sequence 
in  the  natural  world.  We  aie  so  constituted,  th?t,  in 
connexion  with  such  cases  of  antecedence  and  sequence, 
we  are  led  at  a  very  early  period  oi'  life  to  frame  the 
proposition  and  to  receive  it  as  an  undeniable  truth,  that 
there  can  be  no  beginning  or  change  of  existence  without 
a  :;ause.  This  proposition  involves  the  idea  of  efiicie/icy 
or  power. — (2.)  The  control  of  the  will  over  the  rauscu- 
ia:  action.  We  are  so  constituted,  that,  whenever  we  will 
to  put  a  part  of  the  body  in  motion,  and  the  motion  fol- 
lows the  volition,  we  have  the  idea  of  power. — (3.)  The 
control  of  the  will  over  the  other  mental  powers.  Within 
certain  limits  and  to  a  certain  extent,  there  seems  to  be 
ground  for  supposing  that  the  will  is  capable  of  exercising 
a  directing  control  over  the  mental  as  well  as  over  the 
bodily  powers.  And  whenever  we  are  conscious  of  such 
control  being  exercised,  whether  it  be  greater  or  less,  oc- 
casion is  furnished  for  the  origin  of  this  idea.  It  is  then 
called  forth  or  suggested.  It  is  not  seen  by  the  material 
eye,  nor  reached  by  the  sense  of  touch ;  but,  emerging  of 
itself  from  the  mind,  like  a  star  from  the  depths  of  the 
firmament,  it  reveals  itself  distinctly  and  brightly  to  the 
intellectual  vision. 

^  119.   Of  the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong. 

Right  and  Wrong  also  are  conceptions  of  the  pure  Un- 
derstanding ;  that  is,  of  the  Understanding  operating  in 
virtue  of  its  own  interior  nature,  and  not  as  dependent  on 
the  senses.  We  are  constituted  intellectually  in  such  a 
manner,  that,  whenever  occasions  of  actual  right  or  wrong 
(Xjcur,  w^ienever  objects  fitted  to  excite  a  moral  approval 
or  disapprova.  are  presented  to  our  notice,  the  ideas  of 
aiQHr  and  wrong  naturally  and  necessarily  arise  \vithin 
us.  In  rt^spect  to  these  ideas  or  intellections,  (if  we 
choose  to  employ  an  expressive  term  partially  fallen  into 
diause,^  Cudworth,  Stewart,  Cousin,  and  other  writers  ot 
acknowledged  discermnent  and  weight,  appear  to  agree 
in  placing  the  origin  of  them  here.  And  this  arrange- 
ment  of  them  is  understood  to  be  important  in  connexion 
with  the  theory  of  Morals.  If  these  ideas  originate  in  the 
pure  intellect,  and  are  simple,  as  they  obviouslv  are,  tlier 

M 


134  SUGGESTION, 

each  of  tlu'm  r.(;tessari]y  has  its  distinctive  nalure.  eacfc 
of  them  is  an  entity  by  itself;  and  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive of  them  as  identical  or  interchang-eable  with  each 
other.  Tliey  are  as  truly  unlike  as  our  conceptions  of 
unity  and  time,  or  of  space  and  power.  And  if  this  is 
true  of  om*  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  it  is  not  less  so  of 
right  and  wrong  themselves.  In  other  words,  right  can 
never  become  wrong,  nor  wrong  right;  they  are  placed 
for  ever  apart,  each  ( ccupying  its  own  sphere ;  and  thus 
we  have  a  foundation  laid  for  the  important  doctrine  of 
the  immutability  of  moral  distinctions. — "  The  distinction 
between  right  and  wron^-,"  says  Cousin,  (Psychology, 
ch.  V.,)  "  may  be  incorrectly  applied,  may  vary  in  regard 
to  particular  objects,  and  may  become  clearer  and  more 
correct  in  time,  without  ceasing  to  be  with  all  men  the 
same  thino-  at  the  bottom.  It  is  a  universal  conception 
of  Reason,  and  hence  it  is  found  in  all  languages,  those 
products  and  faithful  images  of  the  mind. — Not  only  is 
this  distinction  universal,  but  it  is  a  necessary  conception. 
In  vain  does  the  reason,  after  having  once  received,  at- 
tempt to  deny  it,  or  call  in  questioE  its  truth.  It  cannot. 
One  cannot  at  will  regard  the  same  action  as  just  and 
unjust.  These  two  ideas  bafHe  every  attempt  to  commute 
them,  the  one  for  the  other.  Their  objects  may  change, 
but  never  their  nature." 

^  120.   Origin  of  the  ideas  of  moral  merit  and  demerit. 

Closely  connected  with  the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong 
are  the  ideas  of  moral  merit  and  demerit.  In  the  order 
of  nature,  (what  is  sometimes  called  the  logical  order,) 
the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  come  first.  Without  pos- 
sessing the  antecedent  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  it 
would  be  impossible  for  us  to  frame  the  ideas  of  mora! 
merit  and  demerit.  For  what  merit  can  w^e  possibly  at- 
tach to  him  in  whom  we  discover  no  recti'^ude  ?  or  what 
demerit  in  him  in  whom  we  discover  no  want  of  it  1 
M^rit  always  implies  virtue  as  its  antecedent  and  neces' 
sar}  condition,  while  demerit  as  certainly  impHes  the 
want  of  it,  or  vice.  Although  the  ideas  of  merit  and  de- 
merit, in  consequence  of  being  simple,  are  undefinablc, 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  of  Iheir  existence,  and  of  theii 


OR   THE    INTUITIONAL    POWER.  135 

n€mg  enii  iily  clear  to  our  mental  perception;  and  thai 
they  furnish  a  well-founded  ana  satisfactory  basis  for 
many  of  our  judgments  in  respect  to  the  moral  charactcj 
and  conduct  of  mankind. 

()  121.  Of  other  elements  of  knowledge  developed  in  suggesiior.. 

In  giving  an  account  of  the  ideas  from  this  source,  we 
have  preferred  as  designative  of  their  origin  the  terir/ 
sUGGKSTioN,  proposed  and  employed  by  Reid  and  Stew- 
art, to  the  word  reason,  proposed  by  Kant,  and  adopted 
by  Cousin  and  some  other  writers,  as,  on  the  whole,  more 
conformable  to  the  prevalent  usage  of  the  English  lan- 
gtiage.  In  common  parlance,  and  by  the  established 
usage  of  the  language,  the  word  reason  is  expressive  of 
the  deductive  rather  than  of  the  suggestive  faculty  ;  and 
if  \ve  annul  or  perplex  the  present  use  of  that  word  by  a 
novel  application  of  it,  we  must  introduce  a  new  word  to 
Express  the  process  of  deduction.  Whether  we  are  cor- 
rect in  this  or  not,  we  shall  probably  find  no  disagree- 
ment or  opposition  in  asserting,  not  only  the  existence, 
but  the  great  importance  of  the  intellectual  capability 
which  we  have  been  considering.  The  thing,  and  the 
nature  of  the  thing,  is  undoubtedly  of  more  consequence 
than  the  mere  name. 

In  leaving  this  interesting  topic,  we  would  not  be  un 
derstood  to  intimate  that  the  notions  of  existence,  mind, 
personal  identity,  unity,  succession,  duration,  power,  and 
the  others  which  have  been  mentioned,  are  all  which 
Suggestion  furnishes.  It  might  not  be  easy  to  make  a 
complete  enumeration ;  but,  in  giving  an  account  of  the 
genesis  of  human  knowledge,  we  may  probably  ascribe 
the  ideas  of  truth,  freedom,  design  or  intelligence,  neces- 
sity, fitness  or  congruity,  reality,  oixler,  plurality,  totality, 
immensity,  possibility,  infinity,  happiness,  reward,  punish- 
ttif-nt,  and  perhaps  ma'iy  others,  to  this  source. 

ly  122.  S\^gestion  a  sjurce  of  pnnciptes  as  well  as  of  ideas. 

One  more  remark  remains  to  be  rajde.  Original  Sug- 
^estion  is  not  only  the  source  of  ide  is,  (and  particularly 
of  ideas  fundamental  and  unalterable,)  but  also  of  princi' 
fHes.     The  reasoning  facult)',  which  in  its  nature  is  essen- 


136  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

tially  comparative  and  deductive,  must  Lave  something  tc 
rest  upon  back  of  itself,  and  of  still  higher  authority  thai/ 
itself,  with  which,  as  a  first  link  in  the  chain,  the  procesj 
of  deduction  begins.  It  is  the  suggestive  intellect  which 
is  the  basis  of  the  action  of  the  comparative  and  deduc- 
tive intellect.  Of  thoje  elementary  or  ti'anscendental 
propositions  which  are  generally  acknowledged  to  he 
prerequisites  and  conditions  of  the  exercise  of  the  deduc- 
tive faculty,  there  are  some  particularly  worthy  of  notice. 
Ruch  as  the  following. — There  is  no  beginning  or  change 
of  existence  without  a  cause. — Matter  and  mind  have 
uniform  and  permanent  laws. — Every  quality  supposes  a 
subject,  a  real  existence,  of  which  it  is  a  quality. — Means, 
conspiring  together  to  produce  a  certain  end,  imply  intel- 
hoence. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CONSCIOUSNESb. 
<!  123.  Consciousness  the  2d  source  of  internal  knowledge  ;  its  natuz« 

The  second  source  of  that  knowledge  which,  in  dis- 
tinction from  sensations  and  external  perceptions,  is  de- 
nominated Internal,  is  consciousness.  By  the  common 
usage  of  the  language,  the  term  Consciousness  is  appro- 
priated to  express  the  way  or  method  in  which  we  obtain 
the  knowledge  of  those  objects  which  belong  to  the 
mind  itself,  and  which  do  not,  and  cannot  exist  inde- 
pendently of  some  mind.  Imagining  and  reasonnig  are 
terms  expressive  of  real  objects  of  thought ;  but  e\ident- 
ly  they  cannot  be  supposed  to  exist,  independently  of 
some  mind  which  imagines  and  reasons.  Hence  everj 
instance  of  consciousness  may  be  regarded  as  embracing 
in  itself  the  three  following  distinct  notions  at  least ;  viz., 
(1.)  The  idea  of  self  or  of  personal  existence,  which  we 
possess,  not  by  direct  consciousness,  but  by  suggestion, 
expressed  in  English  by  the  words  self,  myself,  and  tiie 
persona]  pronoun  I ;  (2.)  Some  quality,  state,  or  opera- 
don  j>f  the  mind,  whatever  it  may  be  ;  and  (3.)  A  relative 


CONSCIOUSNESS.  137 

perception  of  possession,  appropriation,  or  "belonging  to. 
For  instance,  a  person  says,  I  am  conscious  or  love,  oh 
OF  ANGER,  OR  OF  PENITENCE.  Here  the  idea  of  self,  or  of 
pei-sonal  existence,  is  expressed  by  the  pronoun  I ;  there 
is  a  different  mental  state,  and  expressed  by  its  appropri- 
Hte  term,  that  of  the  affection  of  anger,  &c.  ;  the  phrase, 
CONSCIOUS  OF,  expresses  the  feeling  of  relation,  which  in- 
gfvitaneousl)  and  necessarily  recognises  the  passion  of 
anTcr  as  the  attribute  or  property  of  the  subject  of  tht 
proposition.  And  in  this  case,  as  in  all  others  where  we 
apply  the  terra  under  consideration,  consciousness  does 
not  properly  extend  to  anything  which  has  an  existence 
pxtraneous  to  the  conscious  object  or  soul  itself. 

()  124    Further  remarks  on  tbe  proper  objects  of  consciousness. 

As  there  are  some  things  to  which  Consciousness,  as 
the  term  is  usually  employed,  relates,  and  others  to  which 
it  does  not,  it  is  proper  to  consider  it  in  this  respect  more 
fully. — (1.)  As  to  those  thoughts  which  may  have  arisen, 
or  those  emotions  which  may  have  agitated  us  in  times 
past,  we  cannot  with  propriety  be  said  to  be  conscious  of 
them  at  the  present  moment,  although  we  may  be  con- 
scious of  that  present  state  of  mind  which  we  term  the 
recollection  of  them. — (2.)  Again,  Consciousness  has  no 
direct  connexion  with  such  objects,  whether  material  or 
immaterial,  as  exist  at  the  present  time,  but  are  externa' 
to  the  mind,  or,  in  other  words,  have  an  existence  inde 
pendent  of  it. 

For  instance,  we  are  not,  strictly  speaking,  conscioa* 
of  any  material  existence  whatever ;  of  the  earth  which 
we  Jread,  of  the  food  which  nourishes  us,  of  the  clothes 
that  protect,  or  of  anything  else  of  the  like  nature  with 
wh  ch  we  are  conversant ;  but  are  conscious  merely  of 
the  effects  they  produce  within  us,  of  the  sensations  of 
tastE,  of  heat  and  cold,  of  resistance  and  extension,  of 
hardness  and  softness,  and  the  hke. 

(3.)  This  view  holds  also  in  respect  to  immaterial 
things,  even  the  mind  itself.  We  are  not  directly  con- 
scious, using  the  term  in  the  manner  which  has  been  ex- 
plained, of  the  existence  even  of  our  own  mind,  but 
in  ;rely  of  its  qualities  and  operations,  and  of  that  firni 
M2 


i'6H  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

heliet'  or  knowledge  of  its  existence,  necessarily  atteiwi- 
ant  on  those  operations. 

*)   125.   Consciousness  a  ground  or  law  of  belief. 

Consciousness,  it  may  be  remarked  here,  is  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  gromid  or  law  of  belief;  and  the  belief  at- 
tendant on  the  exercise  of  it,  like  that  which  accompa- 
jiies  the  exercise  of  Original  Suggestion,  is  of  the  highest 
kind.  It  appears  to  be  utterly  out  of  our  power  to  avoid 
believing,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  the  mind  experiences  cer- 
tain sensations,  or  has  certain  thoughts,  or  puts  forth  par- 
ticular intellectual  operations,  v,'henever,  in  point  of  fact, 
that  is  the  case.  We  may  be  asked  for  the  reason  of  this 
belief,  but  we  have  none  to  give,  except  that  it  is  the  re- 
sult of  an  ultimate  and  controlling  principle  of  our  na- 
ture ;  and  hence  that  nothing  can  ever  prevent  the  convic- 
tions resultino-  from  this  source,  and  nothing;  can  divest 
\s  of  them. 

Nor  has  the  history  of  the  human  mind  made  known 
any  instances  that  have  even  the  appearance  of  being  at 
variance  with  this  view,  except  a  few  cases  of  imdoubted 
insanity.  A  man  may  reason  against  Consciousness  as  a 
ground  and  law  of  belief,  either  for  the  sake  of  amusing 
himself  or  perplexing  others ;  but  when  he  not  only  rea- 
sons against  it  as  such,  but  seriously  and  sincerely  rejects 
it,  it  becomes  quite  another  concern  ;  and  such  a  one  has, 
by  common  consent,  broken  loose  from  the  authority  of 
his  nature,  and  is  truly  and  emphatically  beside  himself 
It  will  be  impossible  to  find  a  resting-place  where  such 
a  mind  can  fix  itself  and  repose  ;  the  best  established 
truths,  and  the  wildest  and  most  extravagant  notions,  will 
stand  nearly  an  equal  chance  of  being  either  rejected  or 
received ;  fancy  and  fact  will  be  confounded  and  mingled 
together,  and  the  whole  mind  will  exhibit  a  scene  of 
cliaotic  and  irretrievable  confusion. 

^   126.  Instances  of  knowledge  developed  in  consciousness. 

It  would  be  no  easy  task  to  point  out  the  numerous 
states  of  mind,  the  ideas,  and  emotions,  and  desires,  and 
volitions,  which  come  within  the  range  and  cognizance 
oi  Coasciousness ;  nor  is  there  any  special  reason,  con?iec  •:- 


CONSCIOUSNESS.  J3n 

ed  with  any  objecit  we  have  in  view  at  prestnu,  ivhy  such 
a  full  enumeration  should  be  attempted.  A  few  instances 
will  suffice  to  show  how  fruitful  a  source  of  experience 
and  of  knowledge  this  is. 

(I.)  All  the  various  degrees  of  belief  are  matters  of 
Consciousness.  We  are  so  constituted  that  the  mind  ne- 
cessarily yields  its  assent  in  a  grer-lox  or  less  degree  when 
evidence  is  presented.  These  degrees  of  assent  are  ex- 
ceedingly various  and  multiplied,  although  only  a  few  of 
them  are  expressed  by  select  and  appropriate  names ;  nor 
does  it  appear  to  be  necessary  for  the  ends  of  society,  or 
for  any  other  purpose,  that  it  should  be  otherwise.  Some 
of  them  are  as  follows  :  doubting,  assenting,  presumption, 
believing,  disbelieving,  probability,  certainty,  &c. 

(II.)  The  names  of  all  other  intellectual  acts  and  oper- 
ations (not  the  names  of  the  intellectual  Powers,  which, 
like  the  mind  itself,  are  made  known  to  us  by  Suggestion, 
and  are  expressed  by  a  different  class  of  terms,  but  sim- 
ply of  acts  and  operations^  are  expi'essive  of  the  subjects 
of  our  Consciousness.  Among  otners,  the  terms  perceiv- 
ing, thinking,  attending,  conceiv;  ng,  remembering,  com- 
paring, judging,  abstracting,  reasoning,  imagining. 

(III.)  Consciousness,  considered  as  a  source  of  knowl- 
edge, includes  likewise  all  our  emotions  and  desires, 
(everything,  in  fact,  which  really  and  directly  comes  with- 
in the  range  of  the  sensitive  or  sentient  part  ot  our  na- 
ture,) as  the  emotions  of  the  beautiful,  the  grand,  ihe  sub- 
lime, the  ludicrous ;  the  feelings  of  pleasure,  and  pain, 
and  aversion,  of  hope  and  joy,  of  despondency  and  sad- 
ness, and  a  multitude  of  others. 

(IV.)  Here  also  originates  our  acquaintance  with  the 
complex  emotions  or  passions.  A  man  bestows  a  benefit 
upon  us,  and  we  are  conscious  of  a  new  complex  feeling 
which  we  call  gratitude.  Another  person  does  us  an  in- 
jury ;  and  we  are  conscious  of  another  and  distinct  feeling, 
which  we  call  anger.  In  other  words,  we  feel,  we  know 
that  the  passion  exists,  and  that  it  belongs  to  ourselves ; 
and  it  is  the  same  of  jealousy,  hatred,  revenge,  friendship, 
sympathy,  the  filial  and  parental  affections,  love,  &c. 

(V.)  All  the  moral  anc'  religious  emotions  and  affeo 
tions,  regarded  as  subject?  of  internal  knowle  'ge,  bolong 


140  IlELAflVE    SUGGESTION    OK    JUbGMLNi 

here;  sui;h  as  approval,  disapproval,  remorse,  humility, 
repentance,  religious  faith,  forgiveness,  benevolence,  the 
sense  of  dependence,  adoration. — When  we  consider  that 
the  mind  is  constantly  in  action  ;  that,  in  all  our  intercourse 
with  our  fellow-beings,  friends,  family,  countrymen,  and 
enemies,  new  and  exceedingly  diversified  feelings  arc 
called  forth ;  that  every  new^  scene  in  nature,  and  ever}- 
new  combination  of  events,  have  their  appropriate  result*" 
in  the  mind,  it  wall  be  readily  conjectured  that  this  enu- 
meration might  be  carried  to  a  much  greater  extent 
What  has  been  said  will  serve  to  indicate  some  of  the 
prominent  sources  for  self-inquiry  on  this  subject 


CHAPTER  IV. 

RELATIVE    SUGGESTION    OR    JUDGMENT. 
9  127.   Of  the  susceptibility  of  perceiving  or  feeling  relations. 

It  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  usage  of  our  language 
to  say,  that  the  mind  brings  its  thoughts  together,  and 
places  them  side  by  side,  and  compares  them.  Such  are 
nearly  the  expressions  of  Mr.  Locke,  who  speaks  of  the 
mind's  bringing  one  thing  to  and  setting  it  hy  another, 
and  carrying  its  view  from  one  to  the  other.  And  such 
is  the  imperfect  nature  of  all  arbitrary  signs,  that  this 
phraseology  will  probably  continue  to  be  employed,  al- 
though without  some  attention  it  wall  be  likely  to  lead 
into  error.  Such  expressions  are  evidently  of  material 
origin,  and  cannot  be  rightly  interpreted  in  their  applica- 
tion to  the  mind,  without  taking  that  circumstance  into 
consideration.  When  it  is  said  that  our  thoughts  are 
brought  together ;  that  they  are  placed  side  by  side,  and 
the  like,  probably  nothing  more  can  be  meant  than  this, 
that  they  are  immediately  successive  to  each  other.  And 
when  it  is  further  said  that  we  compare  them,  the  mean- 
ing is,  that  we  perceive  or  feel  their  relation  to  each  other 
in  certain  respects. 

The  mind,  therefore,  has  an  original  susceptibility  oi 
power  corresponding  to  this  result ;  in  other  words,  b]( 


KELAflVE    SUGGESTION    OR    JUUGiWDNT,  141 

which  this  result  is  brought  about ;  which  is  soniutimes 
known  as  its  power  of  relative  suggestion,  and  at  other 
times  the  same  thing  is  expressed  by  the  terra  judgment, 
although  the  latter  terra  is  sometimes  employed  with  othe* 
shades'of  meaning. — "  With  the  susceptibility  of  Relative 
Suggestion,"  says  Dr  Brown,  Lect.  51,  "  the  faculty  nt 
judgment,  as  that  terra  is  commonly  employed,  may  be 
cosisidered  as  nearly  synonymois;  and  1  have  accord- 
5jicrlv  used  it  as  synonymous  in  treating  of  the  different 
relations  that  have  come  under  our  review." 

We  arrive  here,  therefore,  at  an  ultimate  fact  in  our 
mental  nature ;  in  other  wovds,  we  reach  a  principle  so 
thoroughly  elementary,  that  ic  cannot  be  resolved  into  any 
other.  The  human  intellect  is  so  made,  so  constituted, 
that,  when  it  perceives  different  objects  together,  or  has 
immediately  successive  conceptions  of  any  absent  objects 
of  perception,  their  mutual  relations  are  immediately  felt 
by  it.  ■  It  considers  them  as  equal  or  unequal,  like  or  un- 
like, as  being  the  same  or  different  in  respect  to  place  and 
time,  as  having  the  same  or  different  causes  and  ends, 
and  in  various  other  respects. 

"S  128.   Occasions  on  which  feelings  of  relation  may  arise 

The  occasions  on  which  feelings  of  relation  may  arise 
are  almost  innumerable.  It  would  certainly  be  no  easy 
task  to  specify  them  all.  Any  of  the  ideas  which  the 
mind  is  able  to  frame,  may,  either  directly  or  indirectly, 
lay  the  foundation  of  other  ideas  of  relation,  since  they 
may,  in  general,  be  compared  together ;  or  if  they  cannot 
themselves  be  reacUly  placed  side  oy  side,  may  be  made 
the  means  of  bringing  others  into  comparison.  But  those 
ideas  which  are  of  an  external  origin  are  representative 
of  objects  and  their  qualities ;  and  hence  we  may  speak 
of  the  relations  of  things  no  less  than  of  the  relations  of 
thouo-ht.  And  such  relations  are  everywhere  discover- 
able." 

We  behold  the  flowers  of  the  field,  and  one  is  fairer 
than  another ;  we  hear  many  voices,  and  one  is  louder 
or  softer  thfln  another ;  we  taste  the  fruits  of  the  earth, 
and  one  flavour  is  mere  pleasant  than  another.  But  these 
difife  ences  of  soun  d,  and  brightriess,  and  taste,  could  nevei 


142  RELATIVE    SUGGESTION   OR    JUDGMENT. 

be  kiiown  to  uis  without  the  power  of  perceiving  relations 
— Again,  we  see  a  fellow-being;  and  as  we  make  hiiD 
.he  subject  of  our  thoughts,  we  at  first  think  of  him  only 
as  a  man.  But  then  he  may,  at  the  same  time,  be  a  fa- 
ther, a  brother,  a  son,  a  citizen,  a  legislator ;  these  terma 
express  ideas  of  relation. 

(j  129.  Of  the  use  of  correlative  terms. 

Oorrelative  terms  are  such  terms  ??  are  used  to  exjvress 
corresponding  ideas  of  relation.  They  suggest  the  rela- 
tions with  great  readiness,  and,  by  means  of  them,  the 
mind  can  be  more  steadily,  and  longer,  and  with  less 
pain,  fixed  upon  the  ideas  of  which  they  are  expressive. 
The  words  father  and  son,  legislator  and  constituent, 
brother  and  sister,  husband  and  wife,  and  others  of  this 
class,  as  soon  as  they  are  named,  at  once  carry  our 
thoughts  beyond  the  persons  who  are  the  subjects  of 
these  relations  to  the  relations  themselves.  Wherever 
therefore,  there  are  correlative  terras,  the  relations  raaj 
be  expected  to  be  clear  to  the  mind. 

^  130.  Of  relations  of  identity  and  diversity. 

The  number  of  relations  is  very  great ;  so  much  so,  thai 
(t  is  found  difficult  to  reduce  them  to  classes ;  and  proba- 
bly no  classification  of  them  which  has  been  hitherto  pro- 
posed, exhausts  them  in  their  full  extent.  The  most  of 
those  which  it  will  be  necessary  to  notice  may  be  brought 
into  the  seven  classes  of  relations  of  roENXixY  and  diver 

SITY,  of  DEGREE,  of  PROPORTION,  of  PLACE,  of   TIME,  of  POS- 
SESSION, and  of  CAUSE  and  effect. 

The  first  class  of  ideas  of  relation  which  we  shall  pro 
ceed  to  consider,  are  those  of  identity  and  du^ersity.— 
Such  is  the  nature  of  our  minds,  that  no  two  objects  can 
be  placed  before  us  essentially  unlike,  \vithout  our  having 
a  perception  of  this  difference.  When,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  an  actual  sameness  in  the  objects  contemplated 
by  us,  the  mind  perceives  or  is  sensible  of  their  identity 
h  is  not  meant  by  this  that  we  are  never  hab]e  to  mis- 
t  ake ;  that  the  mind  never  confounds  what  is  different, 
nor  separa.es  what  is  the  same  ;  our  object  her*'^  is  nr»»rely 
to  state  the  general  fact. 


RELATIVE  SUGGESTION  OR    J(J1)GMENT.       143 

Two  pieces  of  paper,  for  instance,  are  placed  before 
lis,  the  one  white  and  the  other  red ;  and  we  at  once 
perceive,  without  the  delay  of  resorting  to  other  objects 
and  bringing  them  into  comparison,  that  the  colours  arc 
not  the  same.  We  immediately  and  necessarily  perceive! 
a  difference  between  a  square  and  a  circle,  between  & 
triangle  and  a  parallelogram,  between  the  river  and  the 
rude  cliff  that  overhangs  it,  the  flower  and  the  turf  from 
which  it  springs,  the  house  and  the  neighbouring  hill,  the 
horse  and  his  rider. 

Whatever  may  be  the  appearance  of  this  elementary 
perception  at  first  sight,  it  is  undoubtedly  one  of  great 
practical  importance.  It  has  its  place  in  all  forms  of  rea- 
soning, as  the  train  of  argument  proceeds  from  step  to 
step ;  and  in  Demonstrative  reasoning  in  particular,  it  is 
e\'ident,  that  without  it  we  should  be  unable  to  combine 
together  the  plainest  propositions. 

^  '31.   (II.)  Relations  of  degree,  and  names  expressive  of  them. 

Another  class  of  those  intellectual  perceptions  which 
are  to  be  ascribed  to  the  Judgment,  or  what  we  term  more 
explicitly  the  power  of  relative  suggestion,  may  proper- 
ly enough  be  named  perceptions  of  relations  of  Degree 
Such  perceptions  of  relation  are  found  to  exist  in  respect 
to  all  such  objects  as  are  capable  of  being  considered  as 
composed  of  parts,  and  as  susceptible,  in  some  respects,  of 
different  degrees. — We  look,  for  instance,  at  two  men ; 
they  are  both  tall ;  but  we  at  once  perceive  and  assert 
that  one  is  taller  than  the  other.  We  taste  two  apples  ; 
they  are  both  sweet ;  but  we  say  that  one  is  sweeter  than 
another.  That  is  to  say,  we  discover,  in  addition  to  the 
mere  peiception  of  the  man  and  the  apple,  a  relation,  a 
difference  in  the  objects  in  certain  respects. 

There  are  terms  in  all  languages  employed  in  the  ex- 
pression of  such  relations.  In  English  a  reference  to  the 
particular  relation  is  often  combined  in  the  same  term 
which  expresses  the  quality.  All  the  words  of  the  com- 
parative and  superlative  degrees,  formed  by  merely  gjter- 
ing  the  tenriination  of  the  positive,  are  oi  this  description, 
as  whiter,  sweeter,  wiser,  larger,  smaller,  nobler,  kindei, 
truest,  falsest,  holiest,  and  a  multi"ude  of  others.     In  oth' 


144  RELATIVE    f.L^GGESTION    OR    JUDGMENT 

er  cases,  (and  probably  the  greater  number,)  the  epithe* 
expressive  of  the  quaUty  is  comhined  with  the  adverbs 
more  and  most,  less  and  leost.  But  certainly  \\e  should 
not  use  such  terms  if  we  were  not  possessed  of  the  power 
of  relative  suggestion.  We  should  ever  be  unable  to  say 
of  one  apple  that  it  is  sweeter  than  another,  or  of  one 
man  that  he  is  taller  than  another,  without  considering 
them  in  certain  definite  respects,  and  without  perceiving 
certain  relations.  So  that,  if  we  had  no  knowledge  of  any 
other  than  relations  of  Degree,  we  should  abundantly  see 
the  importance  of  the  mental  susceptibility  under  review, 
considered  as  a  source  of  words  and  of  grammatical  forms 
in  language. 

-     ^  132.  (III.)  Of  relations  of  proportion. 

Among  other  relations  which  are  discovered  to  us  by 
the  power  of  judgment  or  relative  suggestion,  are  those 
of  PROPORTION ;  a  class  of  relations  which  are  peculiar  in 
this,  that  they  are  felt  only  on  the  presence  of  three  or 
more  objects  of  thought.  They  are  discoverable  particu- 
larly in  the  comparison  of  numbers,  as  no  one  proceeds  far 
in  numerical  combinations  without  a  knowledge  of  them. 
On  examining  the  numbers  two,  three,  four,  twenty,  twen- 
ty-seven, thirty -two,  nine,  five,  eight,  and  sixteen,  we  feel 
certain  relations  existing  among  them ;  they  assume  a 
new  aspect,  a  new  power  in  the  mental  view.  We  per 
ceive  (and  we  can  assert,  in  reference  to  that  perception) 
that  three  is  to  nine  as  nine  to  twenty-seven ;  that  two 
IS  to  eight  as  eight  to  thirty-two ;  that  four  is  to  five  as 
T?ixteen  to  twenty,  &c. 

And  when  we  have  once  felt  or  perceived  such  relation 
actually  existing  between  any  one  number  and  others,  we 
ever  afterward  regard  it  as  a  property  inseparable  from 
that  number,  although  the  property  had  remained  un- 
known to  us  until  we  had  compared  it  with  others.  We 
attach  to  numbers,  under  such  circumstances,  a  new  at- 
tribute, a  new  power,  the  same  as  w^e  do,  under  similar 
circumstances,  to  all  the  other  subjects  of  our  knowledge. 
There  are  many  properties,  for  instance,  of  external  bod- 
ies, which  were  not  known  to  us  at  first,  but,  as  soon  as 
they  are  discovered,  they  are,  of  course,  embraced  in  tii* 


RE1,ATIVE    SUGGESTION   OR   JUDGMENT.  145 

«*ien*;ral  notion  which  we  form  of  such  bodies,  and  are 
consiJerecl  as  making  a  part  of  it.  And  pursuing  the 
same  course  in  respect  to  numbers,  if,  on  comparing  them 
with  each  other,  we  perceive  certain  relations  never  (Us- 
covered  before,  the  circumstance  of  their  sustaining  those 
relations  ever  afterward  enters  into  our  conception  of 
them 

^  133.  (IV.)  Of  relations  of  pbce  or  position. 

Other  feelings  or  perceptions  of  relation  arise  when 
we  contemplate  the  place  or  position  of  objects.  Our 
minds  are  so  constituted,  that  such  ])c:ceptions  are  the 
necessary  results  of  our  contemplations  oi  the  outward  ob- 
jects by  which  we  are  surroimded.  Perhaps  we  are  ask- 
ed, What  we  mean  by  position  or  place  ?  Without  pro- 
fessing to  give  a  confident  answer,  since  it  ig  undoubtedly 
difficult,  by  any  mere  form  of  words,  fully  to  explain  it,  we 
have  good  grounds  for  saying  that  we  cannot  conceive  of 
any  body  as  having  place,  without  comparing  it  with 
some  other  bodies.  If,  therefore,  having  two  bodies  fixed, 
or  which  maintain  the  same  relative  position,  we  can  com- 
pare a  third  body  with  them,  the  third  body  can  then  be 
said  to  have  place  or  position. 

This  may  be  illustrated  by  the  chessmen  placed  on  the 
chessboard.  We  say  the  men  are  in  the  same  place,  al- 
though the  board  may  have  been  removed  from  one  room 
to  another.  W^e  use  this  lanfjuaffe,  because  we  consider 
the  men  only  in  relation  to  each  other  and  the  parts  of  the 
board,  and  not  in  relation  to  the  room  or  parts. of  the 
room. — Again,  a  portrait  is  suspended  in  the  cabin  of  a 
ship  ;  the  captain  points  to  it,  and  says  to  a  bystander, 
that  it  has  been  precisely  in  the  same  place  this  seven 
years.  Whereas,  in  point  of  fact,  it  has  passed  from 
Europe  to  Africa,  from  .\frica  to  America,  and  perha])s 
round  the  whole  world.  Still  the  speaker  uttered  no 
falsehood,  because  he  spoke  of  the  portrait,  (and  was  so 
understood  to  speak  of  it,)  in  relation  to  the  ship,  and 
particularly  the  cabin;  and  not  in  relation  to  the  parts  oi 
the  world  which  the  ship  had  visited. — Such  instances 
show  that  place  is  relative. 

Hence  we  may  clearly  have  an  idea  of  the  plare  or  piv= 
\ 


146       RELATIVE  SUGGESTION  OR  JUDGMENT. 

Kition  of  all  the  different  parts  of  the  universe,  conside» 
cd  separately,  becaure  they  may  be  compared  with  oth- 
er parts ;  although  we  are  unable  to  form  any  idea  ot 
the  place  or  position  of  the  universe  considered  as  a 
whole,  because  we  have  then  no  other  body  with  which 
we  can  compare  it.  If  it  were  possible  for  us  to  know  all 
worlds  and  things  at  once,  to  comprehend  the  universe 
with  a  glance,  we  could  not  assert,  with  all  our  knowl 
edge  of  it,  that  it  is  here,  or  there,  or  yonder,  or  tell 
where  it  would  be. 

But  if  place  express  a  relative  notion,  then  it  folJows 
that  all  words  which  involve  or  imply  the  place  or  posi 
tion  of  an  object  are  of  a  similar  character.  Such  are 
Jhe  words  high  and  low,  superior  and  inferior,  (when  used 
jn  respect  to  the  position  of  objects,)  near  and  distant, 
above  and  beneath,  further,  nearer,  hither,  yonder,  here, 
there,  where,  beyond,  within,  around,  without,  and  the 
like. 

^  134.  (V.)  Of  relations  of  time. 

Another  source  of  relative  perceptions  or  judgments 
is  TIME.  Time  holds  nearly  the  same  relation  to  duration 
as  position  does  to  space.  The  position  or  piace  of  ob- 
jects is  but  space  marked  out  and  limited ;  time,  in  like 
manner,  is  duration  set  off  into  distinct  periods ;  and  as 
our  notions  of  the  place  of  bodies  are  relative,  so  also  are 
our  conceptions  of  events  considered  as  happening  in 
time.  It  is  true,  that  the  notions  of  duration  and  space 
are  in  themselves  original  and  absolute  ;  they  are  made 
known  to  us  by  Original  rather  than  by  Relative  Sugges- 
tion ;  but  when  they  are  in  any  way  limited,  and  events 
are  thereby  contemplated  in  reference  to  them  under  the 
new  forms  of  place  and  time,  certain  new  conceptions 
arise  which  are  relative. 

All  time  is  contemplated  under  the  aspect  of  past,  pres- 
ent, or  future.  We  are  able,  chiefly  in  consequence  of 
the  revolutions  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  to  form  a  disUnct 
notion  of  portions  of  time,  a  day,  a  month,  a  year,  &c. ; 
we  can  contemplate  events,  not  only  as  existing  at  pres- 
ent, but  as  future  or  past.  But  always  when  we  think  oi 
Bpeak  of  events  in  time,  (in  other  words,  when  we  speak 


RiiLATIVE    SUGGESTION    OK    JUDjMENT.  1  17 

ol  the  dafe  of  events,)  tliere  is  a  comparison  and  a  pe  - 
ception  of  relation. 

\Miat,  therefore,  is  the  import  of  our  language  wlien 
we  say,  the  independence  of  the  North  American  colo- 
nies was  declared  July  fourth,  1776. — ^The  meaning  of 
rnese  expressions  may  be  thus  illustrated.  We  assume 
the  present  year,  1838,  as  a  g"ven  period,  and  reckon  back 
to  the  year  one,  which  coincides  with  the  birth  of  our  Sav- 
iour ;  then  the  year  1776  expresses  the  distance  between 
these  two  extremes,  \iz.,  one,  and  eighteen  hundred  thir 
ty-eight.  This  seems  to  be  all  we  learn  when  we  say, 
the  Independence  of  the  United  States  was  declared  at  the 
period  above  mentioned. — Again,  we  obviously  mean  the 
same  thing,  and  convey  the  same  idea,  whether  we  say 
that  the  Saviour  was  born  in  the  year  one  of  the  Chi'istiari 
era,  or  in  the  year  4004  from  the  creation  of  the  world. 
But,  in  the  last  case,  the  year  4004  expresses  the  distance 
between  these  two  extremes,  viz.,  the  beginning  of  the 
world  and  the  present  time  ;  while,  in  the  first  instancr , 
the  event  itself  forms  the  beginning  of  the  series. — So 
that  all  dates  appear  to  be  properly  classed  under  the 
head  of  ideas  of  relation ;  and  also  all  names  whatever . 
which  are  in  any  way  expressive  of  the  time  of  events, 
as  a  second,  a  minute,  day,  week,  hour,  month,  year,  cy- 
cle, yesterday,  to-morrow,  to-day,  &c. 

ij  135.  (VI.)  Of  ideas  of  possession. 

Another  class  of  relations  may  be  called  relations  ol 
POSSESSION. — Every  one  knows,  that  not  mifrequently,  ij) 
his  examination  of  objects,  there  arises  a  new  feeling, 
which  is  distinct  from,  and  independent  of,  the  mere  con- 
ceptions of  the  objects  themselves ;  and  which,  as  it  dif- 
fers from  other  feelings  of  relation,  may  be  termed  the 
'elation  of  possession  or  belonging  to.  This  is  one  of  the 
earliest  feelintrs  which  human  beings  exercise.  Wlien 
we  see  the  small  child  graspmg  its  top  and  rattle  with 
joy,  and  disputing  the  claims  of  another  to  a  share  id 
them,  we  may  know  that  he  has  formed  the  notion  ol' 
possession.  It  is  not  only  formed  in  early  life,  but  expe- 
rience fully  shows  that  it  loses  neither  activity  n  fr  strength 
by  the  lapse  of  years. 


148  RKLAI'IVE    SIjGGESTiON    Oil    JUDGMENT 

The  applicaiion  of  the  Judgment,  or  thai  power  by 
(\4iich  we  perceive  the  relations  of  things,  is  frequent  in 
(his  particular  form  ;  and  we  fmd  here  a  fruitful  source  ol 
words.  The  whole  class  of  possessive  pronouns,  whici 
are  to  be  found  in  all  languages,  have  their  origin  here  5 
Buch  as  MINE,  THINE,  YOUR,  iiis,  HER,  &c.  The  relation 
of  possession  is  imbodied  also  in  the  genitive  case  of  the 
(jreeks,  Latins,  Germans,  and  whatever  other  languages 
express  relations  in  the  same  way  ;  in  the  construct  state 
of  nouns  in  the  Hebrew  and  the  other  cognate  dialects  j 
and  in  the  preposition  of,  which  is  the  substitute  for  the 
genitive  termination  in  English,  and  the  articles  de,  du, 
de'l,  and  de  la  in  French, 

The  verbs  to  be  in  English,  esse  in  Latin,  etre  in 
French,  (and  the  same  may  undoubtedly  be  said  of  the 
corresponding  verb  of  existence  in  all  languages,)  are 
often  employed  to  express  the  relation  of  possession  or 
belonging  to.  To  say  that  the  rose  is  red  or  the  orange 
yellow,  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  the  qualities  of  yellow- 
ness and  redness  are  the  possession  of,  or  belong  to,  the 
rose  and  orange.  But  it  will  be  observed,  that  the  rela- 
ikon  is  not  indicated  by  the  name  of  the  subject,  nor  by 
1  he  epithet  expressive  of  its  quality,  but  by  the  verb  which 
connects  the  subject  and  predicate.  And  similar  remarks 
will  apply  to  some  other  verbs. 

This  class  of  relations  is  involved  in  many  complex 
terms,  which  imply  definite  qualities  and  alliections  ot 
mind,  as  friend,  enemy,  lover,  hater,  adorer,  worshipper 
These  terms  not  only  indicate  certain  individuals,  to  whom 
they  are  applied,  but  assert  the  existence  of  certain  men- 
tal affy^-.tions  as  their  characteristics,  and  as  belonging  to 
them. 

^  136.  (VII.)  Of  relations  of  cause  and  effect. 

Tb*'ie  are  relations  also  of  Cause  and  Effect.  We  will 
not  delay  here  to  explain  the  origin  of  the  notions  of 
cause  and  effect,  any  further  than  to  say  that  the  notion 
of  cause,  as  it  first  exists  in  the  mind,  includes  nothing 
more  than  invariable  antecedence.  When  the  antece- 
dence to  the  event,  or  the  sequence  of  whatever  kind,  <s 
nur  own    volition   (and   probably    in  two  other  cases, 


KELATIVE    SUGGESTION    Ou.    JUDGMENT  I4^i 

wee  §  lis,)  we  have  the  new  idea  of  rowEii.  Tiie  iuea 
of  mvaiiable  antecedence,  therefore,  which  of  couise  sup- 
poses some  sequence,  when  it  is  combined  with  that  of 
Power,  constitutes  the  full  notion  of  cause.  Wnen  tht 
sequence  is  found  invariably  to  follovv'',  and  its  existence 
cannot  be  ascribed  to  anything  eke,  it  is  called  the  ef- 
fect. Accordingly,  men  usually  give  the  name  of  events. 
of  occurrences,  or  facts,  to  those  thmgs  which  from  lane 
to  time  fiill  under  their  notice,  wnen  ihey  are  considered 
in  themselves.  They  are  the  mere  facts,  the  mere  events, 
and  nothing  more.  But  when,  in  the  course  of  theii 
further  experience,  such  ev^^nts  are  found  to  have  certain 
invariable  forerunners,  they  cease  to  apply  these  terms, 
and  call  them,  in  reference  to  their  antecedents,  effects. 
And,  in  like  manner,  the  antecedents  are  called  causes,  not 
in  themselves  considered,  but  in  reference  to  what  inva- 
riably comes  after. 

Cause  and  effect,  therefore,  have  certainly  a  relation  to 
each  ether ;  it  is  thus  that  they  exist  in  the  view  of  the 
mind  and  in  the  nature  of  things,  hov\'ever  true  it  may 
be  that  men  are  unable  to  trace  any  physical  connexion 
between  them.  We  cannot  conceive  of  a  cause,  if  we 
exclude  from  the  list  of  our  ideas  the  correlative  notion 
of  effect,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  do  we  call  anything  an 
effect  without  a  reference  to  some  antecedent.  These 
two  notions,  therefore,  involve  or  imply  the  existence  of 
each  other  ;  that  is,  are  relative. 

^  137.  Of  complex  terms  involving  the  relation  of  cause  and  efTect. 

The  suggestion  of  the  relation  of  Cause  and  Effect 
exists  on  occasions  almost  innumerable  ;  and  in  all  lan- 
guages giv^s  a  character  to  a  multitude  of  words.  This 
relation  is  imbodied,  for  instance,  in  a  multitude  of 
names  which  are  expressive  of  complex  objects,  such  as 
pointer,  faimer,  sculptor,  warrior,  writer,  poet,  manufac- 
Uirei'.,  painter. 

This  may  be  thus  illustrated.  When  we  look  at  any 
interesting  piece  of  statuary,  the  sight  of  it  naturally  sug- 
gests its  author.  But  when  our  mind  is  thus  directed 
from  the  statue  to  the  sculptor,  it  is  evident  we  do  not 
think  o{  him  as  we  do  of  a  thousand  others,  but  we  com- 
N2 


150  RELATIVE    SUGGESTION    OR    rjDGMENT, 

i)ine  with  the  conception  of  the  individual  a  reference  to 
what  he  has  done.  We  unite  with  the  mere  complex 
notion  of  man  that  of  a  cause,  and  this  combination  evi- 
dently alters  its  character,  making  it  relative  instead  of 
absolute. — In  like  manner,  when  we  look  at  a  fine  portrait 
or  historical  painting,  we  are  naturally  reminded  of  the 
artist,  whose  ingenuity  has  been  displayed  in  its  propor- 
tions and  colouring.  But  the  word  painter,  which  we  ap- 
ply to  him,  expresses  not  merely  the  man,  but  comprises 
the  additional  notion  of  the  relation  of  cause,  which  he 
holds  to  the  interesting  picture  before  us. 

<^  138.   Connexion  of  relative  suggestion  with  reasoning. 

It  may  be  profitable  to  notice  here  the  connexion  whicn 
relative  suggestion  has  with  reasoning  in  general.  The 
suggestions  of  relation  (or  elem.entary  judgments,  as  they 
may  perhaps  properly  be  called)  are,  in  some  respects,  to 
K  train  of  reasoning,  wdiat  parts  are  to  the  whole.  But 
they  evidently  do  not  of  themselves  include  all  the  parts 
in  a  train  of  reasoning,  and  are  distinguished  by  this  pe- 
culiarity, that  their  office  in  a  great  measure  is  to  connect 
together  other  subordinate  parts  in  the  train.  In  the  com- 
bination of  numbers,  and  in  the  various  applications  of 
demonstrative  reasoning,  the  relations  of  proportion  and 
the  relations  of  identity  and  diversity,  (otherwise  called 
of  agreement  and  disagreement,)  find  a  conspicuous  place. 
Moral  reasoning  embraces  all  kinds  of  relations,  those  of 
degree,  time,  place,  possession,  and  cause  and  effect,  as 
well  as  of  agreement  and  disag-reement,  and  of  propor- 
tion. Relative  feelings,  sometimes  of  one  kind  and 
sometimes  of  another,  continually  unfold  themselves  as 
the  mind  advances  in  argument.  So  that,  although  there 
are  elements  in  reasoning  besides  perceptions  of  relation, 
It  is  evident  that  rt  cannot  advance  independently  of  their 
did.  Facts  may  be  accumulated,  ha^dng  close  and  de- 
cisive relations  to  the  points  to  be  proved,  but  those  facts 
can  never  be  so  bound  together  as  to  result  in  any  decisive 
cone  usiouj  without  a  perception  and  knn  wledge  of  the 
rela^-ons 


Af*OCLAT!0N,       (I  )    PKLM;>RY   LAWS.  I6l 


CHAPTER  V 

ASSOCIATION.       (l.)    PRIMARY   LAWS 

^  139.  Reasons  for  considering  this  subject  here. 

In  giving  an  account  of  the  internal  origin  of  kiiowl* 
edge,  we  might  be  expected  to  proceed  directly  from 
Relative  Suggestion  to  a  consideration  of  the  Reasoning 
power,  which  is  one  of  the  most  effective  and  fruitful 
sources  of  intellectual  perception.  By  means  of  this 
power,  we  are  enabled  to  combine  and  compare  the  am- 
ple materials  furnished  by  original  suggestion,  conscious- 
ness, and  RELATIVE  suggestion,  and  thus  to  develope  in 
the  mind  new  elements  of  thought,  and  to  cast  light  on 
the  darkened  places  in  the  field  of  truth.  But  there  are 
powers  of  the  mind,  subordinate  to  the  reasoning  power, 
and  essential  to  its  action,  which  may  with  propriety  be 
first  considered;  particularly  Association  and  Memoiy 
Other  persons,  perhaps,  in  examining  the  various  parts  of 
the  mind,  would  propose  for  the  consideration  of  these 
powers  some  other  place ;  but  we  see  no  valid  objection 
to  considering  them  here.  On  the  contrary,  they  have 
comparatively  so  little  to  do  with  what  has  gone  before, 
■iind  so  much  to  do  with  what  comes  after,  and,  in  partic- 
ular, are  so  essential  to  every  process  of  ratiocination,  that 
this  seems  to  be  their  appropriate  position.  As  associa- 
tion is  presupposed  and  involved  in  memory  as  well  as  in 
reasoning,  we  naturally  begin  with  that  principle  first 

^  140.  Meaning  of  association  and  illustrations. 

Our  thoughts  and  feelings  follow  each  other  in  a  regu- 
lar train.  Of  this  statement  no  one  needs  any  other 
proof  than  his  indi\'idual  experience.  We  all  know,  not 
only  that  our  minds  are  susceptible  of  new  states,  but^ 
what  is  more,  that  this  capability  of  new  states  is  not  for- 
baitous,  but  has  its  laws.  Therefore  we  not  only  say 
\\iat  our  thoughts  and  feelings  succeed  each  other,  bul 
U«at  this  antecedence  and  se  [uence  is  in  a  regvlar  train 


152  ASSOCIATION. 

To  this  regular  and  established  consecution  of  the  statcn 
of  the  mind,  we  give  the  name  of  mental  ASsociATiON. 

Illustrations  of  this  important  principle,  which  exerts 
an  influence  over  the  emotions  and  desiix^s  as  well  as  over 
the  thoughts,  are  without  nmnber.  Mr,  Hobbes  relates,  ip 
Jiis  political  treatise  of  the  Leviathan,  that  he  was  once 
in  company  where  the  conversation  turned  on  the  Eng' 
iish  Civil  War.  A  person  abruptly  asked,  in  the  course 
of  the  conversation.  What  w^as  the  value  of  a  Roman 
denarius  ?  Such  a  question,  so  remote  from  the  general 
direction  of  the  conversation,  had  the  appearance  not 
only  of  great  abruptness,  but  of  impertinence.  Mr. 
Hobbes  says,  that,  on  a  little  reflection,  he  was  able  to 
trace  the  train  of  thought  which  suggested  the  question. 
The  original  subject  of  discourse  naturally  introduced 
the  history  of  King  Charles  ;  the  king  naturally  suggest- 
ed the  treachery  of  those  who  surrendered  him  up  to  his 
enemies ;  the  treachery  of  these  persons  readily  introdu- 
ced to  the  mind  the  treachery  of  Judas  Iscariot ;  the  cor  - 
duct  of  Judas  was  associated  with  the  thirty  pieces  ol 
silver,  and,  as  the  Romans  occupied  Judea  at  the  time  of 
the  crucifixion  of  the  Saviour,  the  pieces  of  silver  were 
associated  with  the  Roman  denarii. 

"  When  I  was  travelling  through  the  wilds  of  Ameri- 
ca," says  the  eloquent  Chateaubriand,  "  I  was  not  a  little 
surprised  to  hear  that  I  had  a  countryman  established  as 
a  resident  at  some  distance  in  the  woods.  I  visited  him 
with  eagerness,  and  found  him  employed  in  pointing  some 
stakes  at  the  door  of  his  hut.  He  cast  a  look  towards 
me,  which  was  cold  enough,  and  continued  his  work ;  but, 
the  moment  I  addressed  him  in  French,  he  started  at  the 
recollection  of  his  country,  and  the  big  tear  stood  in  his 
eye.  These  well-known  accents  suddenly  roused,  in  the 
heart  of  the  old  man,  all  the  sensations  of  his  infancy."" 
• — Such  illustrations,  which  appeal  to  every  one's  con- 
Bciousness  in  confirmation  of  their  truth,  show  what  a.sso« 
ciation  is. 

9  141.  Of  the  general  laws  of  association. 

In  rf  oard  to  Association,  all  that  we  know  is  the  fad 

•  Chateaubriand's  Recjilections  of  Italy,  Eiiglaid,  and  Americ* 


(I.)    PRIMARY    LAWS.  1 5-J 

that  our  thoughts  and  feelings,  under  certiin  ciicuiastan- 
ces,  appear  together  and  keep  each  other  company.  We 
do  not  undertake  to  explain  why  it  is  that  associaiion,  in 
the  circumstances  appropriate  to  its  manifestation,  has  an 
existence.  We  know  the  simple  fact ;  and  if  it  be  an 
ultimate  principle  in  our  mental  constitution,  as  we  have 
no  r(;ason  to  doubt  that  it  is,  we  can  know  nothing  more. 
Association,  as  thus  understood,  has  its  laws.  By  the 
[^aws  of  association  we  mean  no  other  than  the  general 
designation  of  those  circumstances  under  which  the  regu- 
lar consecution  of  mental  states  which  has  been  mention- 
ed occurs.  The  following  may  be  named  as  among  the 
Primary  or  more  important  of  those  laws,  although  it  is 
not  necessary  to  take  upon  us  to  assert  either  that  the 
enumeration  is  complete,  or  that  some  better  arrange- 
ment of  them  might  not  be  proposed,  viz.,  RESEMBLANoe, 
CONTRAST,  cOx\TiGuiTY  in  time  and  place,  and  cause  and 

EFFECT. 

()  142.  Resemblance  the  first  general  law  of  association 

New  trains  of  ideas  and  new  emotions  are  occasioned 
by  Resemblance ;  but  when  we  say  that  they  are  occa- 
sioned in  this  way,  all  that  is  meant  is,  that  there  is  a  new 
state  of  mind  immediately  subsequent  to  the  perception 
of  the  resembling  object.  Of  the  efficient  cause  of  this 
new  state  of  mind  under  these  circumstances,  w^e  can  only 
say,  the  Creator  of  the  soul  has  seen  fit  to  appoint  this 
connexion  in  its  operations,  without  our  being  able,  or 
deeming  it  necessary,  to  give  any  further  explanation.  A 
traveller,  wandering  in  a  foreign  land,  finds  himself,  in  the 
course  of  his  sojournings,  in  the  midst  of  aspects  of  nature 
not  unlike  those  where  he  has  formerly  resided,  and  the 
fact  of  this  resemblance  becomes  the  antecedent  to  new- 
States  of  mind.  There  is  distinctly  brought  before  him 
the  scenery  which  he  has  left,  his  own  woods,  his  waters, 
and  his  home. — The  enterprising  Lander,  in  giving  an 
account  of  one  of  his  excursions  in  Africa,  expresses  him- 
self thus.  "  The  foliage  exhibited  eveiy  variety  and  tint 
of  green,  from  the  sombre  shade  of  the  melancholy  yew 
to  the  lively  verdure  of  the  poplar  and  young  oak.  For 
myself,  I  was  delighted  with  the  agreeable  ramble ;  and 


154  ASSOCIATION 

jmagined  tliat  I  could  distinguish  amon;^  the  notes  of  tnc 
songsters  of  tlie  grove,  the  swelhng  strains  of  the  Enghsh 
skj'lark  and  thrush,  and  the  more  gentle  warbling  of  the 
finch  and  linnet.  It  was  indeed  a  brilliant  morning, 
teeming  with  life  and  beauty ;  and  recalled  to  my  mem- 
ory a  thousand  affecting  associations  of  sanguine  boyhood, 
irTlien  I  was  thoughtless  and  happy." 

The  result  is  the  same  in  any  other  case,  whenever 
there  is  a  resemblance  between  what  we  now  experience 
and  wdiat  we  have  previously  experienced.  We  have 
been  acquainted,  for  instance,  at  some  former  period,  with 
a  person  whose  features  appeared  to  us  to  possess  some 
peculiarity ;  a  breadth  and  openness  of  the  forehead,  an 
uncommon  expression  of  the  eye,  or  some  other  striking 
mark ;  to-day  we  meet  a  stranger  in  the  crowd  by  which 
we  are  surroimded,  whose  features  are  of  a  somewhat 
similar  cast,  and  the  resemblance  at  once  vividly  suggests 
the  likeness  of  our  old  acquaintance. 

Nor  is  the  association  w^hich  is  based  upon  resem- 
blance limited  to  objects  of  sight.  Objects  which  are 
addressed  to  the  sense  of  hearing  are  recalled  in  the 
same  way. 

"  How  soft  the  music  of  those  village  bells, 
Falling  at  intervals  upon  the  car. 
With  easy  force  it  opens  all  the  cells 
Where  memory  slept.     Wherever  I  have  heard 
A  kmdred  melody,  the  scene  recurs, 
And  with  it  all  its  pleasures  and  its  pains." 

(}  143.  Of  resemblance  in  the  effects  produced. 

Resemblance  operates,  as  an  associating  principle,  not 
only  when  there  is  a  likeness  or  similarity  in  the  thinga 
themselves,  but  also  when  there  is  a  resemblance  in  the 
effects  which  are  produced  upon  the  mind. — The  ocean, 
for  instance,  when  greatly  agitated  by  the  winds,  and 
threatening  every  moment  to  overwhelm  us,  produces  in 
tlie  mind  an  emotion  similar  to  that  which  is  caused  by 
the  presciice  of  an  angry  man  who  is  able  to  do  us  harm. 
Ar,.d,  in  consequence  of  this  similarity  in  the  effects  pro- 
duced, it  is  sometimes  the  case  that  they  reciprocally 
biing  each  other  to  our  recollection. 

Dark  woods,  hanging  over  the  brow  of  a  mountain- 


{   .)    PRIMARY    LAWS  15£ 

ra\ise  in  us  a  feeling  of  awe  and  wonder,  like  that  ■which 
we  feel  when  we  behold  approaching  us  some  aged  per- 
son, whose  form  is  venerable  for  his  years,  and  whose 
name  is  renowned  for  wisdom  and  justice.  It  is  in  reler* 
ence  to  this  view  of  the  principle  on  which  we  are  re- 
marking, that  the  following  comparison  is  introducai  in 
A.kenside's  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination  : 

"  Mark  the  sable  woods. 
That  shade  sublime  yon  mountain's  nodding  brow  , 
Willi  what  religious  awe  the  solemn  scene 
Commands  your  steps  !    As  if  the  reverend  form 
Of  Minos  or  of  Numa  should  forsake 
The  Elysian  seats,  and  down  the  embowering  glade 
Move  to  your  pausing  eye." 

As  we  are  so  constituted  that  all  nature  produces  in 
us  certain  effects,  causes  certain  emotions  similar  to  those 
which  are  caused  in  us  in  our  intercourse  with  our  fellow- 
beings,  it  so  happens  that,  in  virtue  of  this  fact,  the  nat 
ural  world  becomes  living,  animated,  operative.  The 
ocean  is  in  miger  ;  the  sky  smiles  ;  the  c\\^ frowns  ;  the 
aged  woods  are  venerable  ;  the  earth  and  its  productions 
are  no  longer  a  dead  mass,  but  have  an  existence,  a  soul, 
an  agency. — We  see  here,  in  part,  the  foundation  of  met- 
aphorical language ;  and  it  is  here  that  we  are  to  look 
for  the  principles  by  which  we  are  to  determine  the  pro- 
priety or  impropriety  of  its  use. 

^  144.  Contrast  the  second  general  or  primary  law. 

Contrast  is  another  law  or  principle  by  which  oui 
•uccessive  mental  states  are  suggested ;  or,  in  other  termsj 
when  there  are  two  objects,  or  events,  or  situations  of  a 
character  precisely  opposite,  the  idea  or  conception  of  one 
is  immediately  followed  by  that  of  the  other.  When  the 
discourse  is  of  the  palace  of  the  king,  how  often  are  we 
reminded  in  the  same  breath  of  the  cottage  of  the  peasant ! 
And  thus  it  is  that  wealth  and  po^  erty,  the  cradle  and 
the  grave,  and  hope  and  despair,  a^e  found,  in  public 
speeches  and  in  writings,  so  frequently  going  together, 
and  keeping  each  other  company.  The  truth  is,  they  are 
connected  together  in  our  thoughts  by  a  distinct  and  op- 
erative principle ;  they  accompany  each  other,  certainly 
mrbec!ui<5e  there  is  any  resemblance  in  the  things  thus 


156  ASSOCTATIOX 

associated,  but  in  consequence  of  their  very  manced  coii» 
trariety.  Darkness  reminds  of  light,  heat  of  cold,  friend- 
ship of  enmity ;  the  sight  of  the  conqueror  is  associated 
with  the  memory  of  the  conquered,  and,  when  beholding 
men  of  deformed  and  dwarfish  appearance,  we  are  at 
once  led  to  think  of  those  of  erect  figure  or  of  Patagonian 
size.  Contrast,  then,  is  no  less  a  principle  or  law  of  as- 
sociation than  resemblance  itself. 

Count  Lemaistre's  touching  stor}^,  entitled,  fiom  the 
scene  of  its  incidents,  the  Leper  of  Aost,  illustrates  the 
effects  of  the  principle  of  association  now  undev  consider- 
ation. Like  all  persons  infected  with  the  lep."osy,  the 
subject  of  the  disease  is  represented  as  an  object  of  dread 
no  less  than  of  pity  to  others,  and,  while  he  is  an  outcast 
from  the  society  of  men,  he  is  a  loathsome  spectac]«^.  even 
to  himself.  But  what  is  the  condition  of  his  mmd  1  What 
are  the 'subjects  of  his  thoughts?  The  tendencies  of  his 
intellectual  nature  prevent  his  thinking  of  wretchednefa 
alone.  His  extreme  misery  aggravates  itself  by  suggest  - 
ing  scenes  of  ideal  happiness,  and  his  mind  revels  in  a 
paradise  of  delights  merely  to  give  greater  intensity  to 
his  actual  woes  by  contrasting  them  with  imaginary  bliss 
— "  I  represent  to  myself  continually,"  says  the  Leper 
"  societies  of  sincere  and  virtuous  friends ;  families  bless 
ed  with  health,  fortune,  and  harmony.  I  imagine  I  se« 
them  walk  in  groves  greener  and  fresher  than  these,  tlu' 
shade  of  which  makes  my  poor  happiness  ;  brightened  b> 
a  sun  more  brilliant  than  tliat  which  sheds  its  beams  on 
» me ;  and  their  destiny  seems  to  me  as  -much  more  worthy 
of  envy  in  proportion  as  my  own  is  the  more  miserable '" 

Association  by  contrast  is  the  foundation  of  the  rho 
torical  figure  of  Antithesis.  Li  one  of  the  tragedies  oi 
Southern  we  find  the  following  antithetic  expressions  • 

"  Could  I  forget 
What  I  have  been,  I  might  the  better  bear 
What  I  am  destined  to.     I  am  not  the  first 
That  have  been  wretched  ;  but  to  think  h"v  much 
I  have  been  happier." 

Here  the  present  is  placed  in  opposition  with  the  past 
and  happiness  is  contrasted  ^vith  misery ;  not  by  a  cold 
nnd  strained  artifice,  as  one  might  be  led  to  suppos**.  lu 


(l.l    PKIVIARY    LAWS.  15"! 

Dy  the  natural  impulses  of  the  mind,  which  is  led  to  ass«»- 
riate  together  things  that  are  the  reverse  ol'  each  other 

■;  145.   Cuntiguity  the  third  general  oi  primary  law. 

Those  thoughts  and  feelings  which  have  been  connect- 
ed together  by  nearness  of  time  and  place,  arc  readil)i 
suggested  by  each  other;  and,  consequently,  contiguity 
in  those  respects  is  rightly  reckoned  as  another  and  third 
primary  law  of  our  mental  associations.  When  we  think 
of  Palestine,  for  instance,  v.'e  very  readily  and  naturally 
think  of  the  Jewi.sh  nation,  of  the  patriarchs,  of  the  proph- 
ets, of  the  Saviour,  and  of  the  apostles,  because  Palestine 
was  their  place  of  residence  and  the  theatre  of  their  ac- 
tions. So  that  this  is  evidently  an  instance  where  the 
suggestions  are  chiefly  regulated  by  proximity  of  place. 
W  hen  a  variety  of  acts  and  events  have  happened  nearly 
at  the  same  period,  whether  in  the  same  place  or  not, 
one  is  not  thought  of  without  the  other  being  closely  asso- 
ciated w^ith  it,  owing  to  proximity  of  time.  If,  there- 
fore, the  jonrticular  event  of  the  crucifixion  of  the  Saviour 
be  mentioned,  we  are  necessarily  led  to  think  of  various 
other  events  which  occurred  about  the  same  period,  such 
as  the  treacherous  conspiracy  of  Judas,  the  denial  of  Pe- 
ter, the  conduct  of  the  Roman  soldiery,  the  rending  of  the 
vail  of  the  temple,  and  the  temporary  obscuration  of  the 
sun. 

The  mention  of  Egypt  suggests  the  Nile,  the  Pyramids, 
the  monuments  of  the  Thebais,  the  follies  and  misfortunes 
of  Cleopatra,  the  battle  of  Aboukir.  The  mention  of 
Greece  is  associated  with  Thermopylffi  and  Salamis,  the 
Hill  of  Mars,  and  the  Vale  of  Tempe,  llissus,  the  steeps 
of  Delphi,  Lyceum,  and  the  "  olive  shades  of  Academus." 
These,  it  will  be  noticed,  are  associations  on  the  principle 
of  contiguity  in  plage.  But  if  a  particular  event  ol  great 
interest  is  mentioned,  other  events  and  renowned  names, 
which  attracted  notice  at  the  same  period,  wih  eagerly 
duster  around  it.  The  naming  of  the  amef  ican  revolu- 
T70N,  for  instance,  immediately  fills  the  mind  with  recol- 
lections of  Washington,  Franklin,  Morris,  Greene,  Jay, 
and  many  of  their  associates,  whose  fortune  it  was  to  e)i- 
list  their  exertions  in  support  of  constitutional  rights,  n'.^ 

O 


IJ^S  _  ASSOCIATION. 

mcreiy  iij  the  same  country,  (for  that  circumstance  alone 
might  not  have  b'.en  sufficient  to  have  recalled  tnem.'j 
Init  at  the  same  jycriod  of  time. 

It  is  generally  supposed,  and  not  without  reason  for  it. 
that  tne  third  primary  law  of  mental  association  is  more 
extensive  in  its  influence  than  any  others.  It  has  beei» 
remarked  with  truth,  that  proximity  in  time  and  place 
forms  the  basis  of  the  whole  calendar  of  the  great  mass 
of  mankind.  They  pay  but  little  attention  to  the  arbi- 
traiy  eras  of  chronology ;  but  date  events  by  each  other, 
and  speak  of  what  happened  at  the  time  of  some  dark 
day,  of  some  destructive  overflow  of  waters,  of  some  great 
eclipse,  of  some  period  of  drought  and  famine,  of  some 
war  or  revolution. 

4  146.   Cause  and  effect  the  fourth  primary  law. 

There  are  certain  facts  or  events  which  hold  to  each 
(>i\\ev  the  relation  of  invariable  antecedence  and  sequence. 
That  fact  or  event  to  which  some  other  one  sustains  the 
relation  of  constant  antecedence,  is,  in  general,  called  an 
effect.  And  that  fact  or  event  to  which  some  other  one 
holds  the  relation  of  invariable  sequence,  has,  in  general, 
the  name  of  a  cause.  Now,  there  may  be  no  resemblance 
m  the  things  which  reciprocally  bear  this  relation ;  there 
may  be  no  contrariety ;  and  it  is  by  no  means  necessary 
that  ihere  should  be  contiguity  in  time  or  place,  as  the 
meaning  of  the  term  contiguity  is  commonly  understood. 
There  may  be  cause  and  effect  without  any  one  or  ah 
of  the^e  circumstances.  But  it  is  a  fact  which  is  known 
to  eve\y  one's  experience,  that,  when  we  think  of  the 
cause  in  any  particular  instance,  we  naturally  think  of  the 
effect,  and,  on  the  contrary,  the  knowledge  or  recollection 
of  the  effect  brings  to  mind  the  cause. — And  in  view  of 
this  well-lcnown  and  general  experience,  there  is  good 
reason  for  reckoning  cause  and  effect  among  the  pri- 
mary principles  of  our  mental  associations.  What  we 
Lere  understand  by  principles  or  laws  will  be  recollected, 
\  17..,  The  general  designation  of  those  circumstances  under 
which  the  resular  conse  cution  of  mental  states  occurs. 

It  is  on  the  principle  of  Cause  and  Effect,  that,  when 
we  see  a  surgical  "nstrument,  or  any  engine  of  torture,  w*! 


ASSOCIATION.      (ll.)    SECONDARY    LAWS.  159 

have  .1  conception  of  llie  pain  wticli  they  are  fitted  Xa 
occaston.  And,  on  the  contrary,  the  sight  of  a  wounn, 
inflicted  however  long  before,  suggests  to  iis  the  idea  of 
the  instrument  by  which  it  was  made.  ]\Ir.  Locke  re- 
lates an  incident,  which  illustrates  the  statements  made 
here,  of  a  man  who  was  restored  from  a  state  of  insanity' 
by  means  of  a  harsh  and  exceedingly  painful  operation 
"  The  gentleman  who  was  thus  recovered,  with  greai 
sense  of  gratitude  and  acknowledgment,  owned  the  cure 
all  his  life  after,  as  the  greatest  obligation  he  could  have 
received ;  but,  whatever  gratitude  and  reason  suggested 
to  him,  he  could  never  bear  the  sight  of  the  operator , 
that  image  brought  back  with  it  the  idea  of  that  agony 
which  he  suffered  from  his  hands,  which  was  too  mighty 
and  intolerable  for  him  to  endure." — The  operation  of  the 
law  of  Cause  and  Effect,  in  the  production  of  new  asso- 
ciations, seems  to  be  involved  in  the  following  character- 
'•Stic  passage  of  Shakspeare,  Henry  IV.,  2d  pt.,  act  i  • 

"  Yet  the  first  bringcr  of  unwelcome  news 
Hath  but  a  losing  office  ;  and  his  tongue 
Sounds  ever  after  as  a  sullen  bell, 
Kemember'd  knolling  a  departed  friend." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ASSOCIATION,      (n.)    SECONDARY   LAWS. 
^  147.  Secondary  laws,  and  their  connexion  with  the  primary. 

The  subject  of  Association  is  not  exhausted  in  the  enu- 
meration and  explanation  of  its  Laws  which  has  thus  far 
been  given.  Besides  the  primary  laws,  which  have  fall- 
en under  our  consideration,  there  are  certain  marked  and 
prominent  circumstances,  which  are  found  to  exert,  in  n 
greater  or  less  degree,  a  modifying  and  controlling  influ- 
ence over  the  more  general  principles.  As  this  influence 
IS  of  a  permanent  character,  and  not  merely  accidental 
and  temporary,  the  grounds  or  sources  of  it  are  called,  by 
way  of  distinction,  secondary'  laws. — These  are  four  in 
nun»ber,  viz.,  lapse  of  Time,  degre*''  of  co-ex'?tent  Feel* 


\60  ASSOCIATIiN 

mg,  repetition  or  Habit,  and  original  or  constitutional 
Difference  in  character. 

It  must  at  once  be  obvious,  that  these  principles,  al- 
though holding  a  subordinate  rank,  give  an  increased 
range  and  power  to  the  primary  laws.  It  is  not  to  be 
inferred  from  the  epithet  by  which  they  are  distinguished, 
that  they  are,  therefore,  of  a  very  minor  and  inconsidera- 
ble importance.  On  the  contrary,  human  nature  without 
them,  as  far  as  we  are  capable  of  judging,  would  have 
assumed  a  sort  of  fixed  and  inflexible  form,  instead  of 
presenting  those  pleasing  and  almost  endless  diversities  it 
now  does. — The  primary  laws  are  the  great  national  roads 
along  which  the  mind  holds  its  course  ;  the  secondary  are 
those  cross-roads  that  intersect  them  from  time  to  time, 
and  thus  afford  an  entrance  into,  and  a  communication 
with,  the  surrounding  country ;  and  yet  all  have  a  con- 
nexion wdth  each  other ;  and  with  all  their  turnings  and 
intersections,  concur  at  last  in  the  ultimate  destination. 

^  148.  Of  the  influence  of  lapse  of  time. 

The  first  of  the  four  secondary  laws  which  w^e  shall 
consider,  is  lapse  of  time.  Stated  more  particularly,  the 
law  is  this :  Our  trains  of  thought  and  emotion  are  more 
or  less  strongly  connected  and  likely  to  be  restored,  ac- 
cording as  the  lapse  of  time  has  been  greater  or  less. 

Perhaps  no  lapse  of  time,  however  great,  will  utterly 
break  the  chain  of  human  thought,  and  cause  an  entire 
inability  of  restoring  our  former  experiences  ;  but  it  ap- 
pears evident  from  observation,  as  much  so  as  observation 
renders  evident  in  almost  any  case,  that  every  additional 
moment  of  intervening  time  weakens,  if  it  do  not  break 
and  sunder,  the  bond  that  connects  the  present  with  the 
past,  and  diminishes  the  probability  of  such  a  restoration. 
We  remember  many  incidents,  even  of  a  trifling  nature, 
which  occurred  to-day,  or  the  present  week,  while  those 
of  yesterday  or  of  last  week  are  forgotten.  But  if  the 
increased  period  of  months  and  years  throws  itself  be- 
tween the  present  time  and  the  date  of  our  past  experi- 
ences, our  ancient  joys,  regrets,  and  sufferings,  then  how 
unfrequent  is  their  recurrence,  and  how  weak  and  shad- 
owy they  appear!     Increase  the  lapse  of  time  a  littlfl 


{U.)   'oECONDARY    LAWS.  W\ 

fuithcr,  and  a  dark  cloud  rests  on  that  portion  of  o ar  his- 
tory;  less  substantial  than  a  dream,  it  utterly  eluiles  our 
Bcarch,  and  becomes  to  us  as  if  it  never  had  been 

There  is,  however,  an  apparent  exception  to  iliis  la\« 
which  should  be  mentioned.  The  associated  feelings  of 
old  men,  which  were  formed  in  their  youth  and  the  earlj 
part  of  manhood,  are  more  readily  revived  than  those  of 
later  origin, — On  this  state  of  things  in  old  men,  two  re- 
marks are  to  be  made.  The  first  is,  that  the  law  under 
consideration  fully  and  unfailingly  maintains  itself  in  the 
case  of  aged  persons,  whenever  the  time  is  not  extended 
i'ivc  back  Events  which  happened  but  a  few  hours  be- 
fore are  remembered,  while  there  is  an  utter  forgetfulness 
of  those  which  happened  a  few  weeks  or  even  days  be- 
fore. So  far  as  this,  the  law  operates  in  old  men  precise- 
ly as  in  others.  The  second  remark  is,  that  the  failure 
of  its  operation  in  respect  to  the  events  of  youth,  is  caused, 
not  by  an  actual  inability  in  the  secondary  law  before  us, 
to  blot  out  and  diminish  here  as  in  other  cases,  but  by  the 
greater  power  of  the  combined  action  of  two  other  laws, 
viz.,  Co-existent  feeling,  and  Repetition  or  habit.  Our 
early  life,  as  a  general  statement,  was  the  most  deeply  in- 
teresting, and  is  the  most  frequently  recm'red  to  ;  and  in 
this  way  its  recollections  become  so  incorporated  with  the 
mind  as  to  hold  a  sort  of  precedence  over  our  more  recent 
experiences,  and  thrust  them  from  their  proper  place. 

ij  149.   Secondary  law  of  repetition  or  habit. 

Another  secondary  law  is  repetition  ;  in  other  words, 
successions  of  thought  are  the  more  readily  suggested  in 
proportion  as  they  are  the  more  frequently  renewed.  If 
we  experience  a  feeling  once,  and  only  once,  we  fmd  it 
difficult  to  recall  it  after  it  has  gone  from  us ;  but  repeat- 
ed experience  increases  the  probability  of  its  recurring. 
Every  schoolboy  who  is  required  to  commit  to  memory, 
puts  this  law  to  the  test,  and  proves  it  Having  read  a 
sentence  a  number  of  times,  he  fmds  himself  able  to  re- 
peat it  out  of  book,  which  he  could  not  do  with  merely 
reading  it  once. 

The  operation  of  this  law  is  ?een  constantly  in  partic- 
lar  arts  and  professions.     If  men  bo  especially  trained  ujj 

02 


ifc"2  ASSOCIATION. 

to  certain  trades,  arts,  or  sciences,  their  associations  on 
those  particular  subjects,  and  on  everything  connected 
with  them,  are  found  to  be  prompt  and  decisive.  We 
can  but  seldom  detect  any  hesitancy  or  mistake  witliin 
the  circle  where  their  minds  have  been  accustomed  to 
operate,  because  every  thought  and  process  have  been 
recalled  and  repeated  thousands  of  times.  With  almost 
everything  they  see  or  hear,  there  is  a  train  of  reflectif^n^ 
connectintj;  it  wdth  their  peculiar  callino-  and  bring-inaf  it 
within  the  beaten  and  consecrated  circle.  EAeryhour, 
unless  they  guard  against  it,  hastens  tht  process  which 
tiireatens  to  cut  them  off,  and  insulate  them  from  the 
great  interests  of  humanity,  and  to  make  them  wholly 
professional. 

"  Still  o'er  those  scenes  their  memory  wakes, 
And  fondly  broods  with  miser  care  ; 
Time  but  the  impression  stronger  makes  ; 
As  streams  their  channels  deeper  wear." 

^  150.   Of  the  secondary  law  of  co-existent  emotion. 

A  third  secondary  law  is  co-existext  emotion. — It  may 
be  stated  in  other  words  as  follows :  The  probability  that 
our  mental  states  will  be  recalled  by  the  general  laws, 
will  in  part  depend  on  the  depth  of  feeling,  the  degree 
of  interest,  which  accompanied  the  original  experience  of 
them. 

Why  are  bright  objects  more  readily  recalled  than 
"aint  or  obscure  1  It  is  not  merely  because  they  occupied 
more  distinctly  our  perception,  but  because  they  more  en- 
gaged our  attention  and  interested  us,  the  natural  conse- 
quence of  that  greater  distinctness.  Why  do  those  events 
in  our  personal  history,  which  were  accompanied  with 
great  joys  and  sorrows,  stand  out  like  pyramids  in  our 
past  life,  distinct  to  the  eye,  and  immoveable  in  their  po- 
sition, while  others  have  been  swept  aw^ay  and  cannot  be 
found  ?  Merely  because  there  were  joy  and  sorrow  in 
the  one  case,  and  not  at  all,  or  only  in  a  slight  degree,  m 
the  other ;  because  the  sensitive  part  of  our  nature  covn- 
bined  itself  with  the  intellectual ;  the  Heart  gave  acdd 
ty  to  the  operations  of  the  Understanding. 

We  learn  from  the  Bible  that  the  Jews,  in  their  5tatt 
f>{  exile,  could  not  forget  Jerusalem,  the  beloved    and 


(11.)    SECO\J)ASY    i.A\VS.  163 

oeautiful  City  And  \\liy  not?  Hoav  did  it  happen 
that,  in  their  Captivity,  they  sat  down  by  the  rivers  of 
Baeylon,  wept  when  they  remembered  Zion,  and  hung 
tlieir  harps  on  the  willows?  It  was  because  Jerusalem 
was  not  only  an  object  of  thought,  but  of  feeling.  They 
had  not  only  known  her  gates  and  fountains,  her  pleasant 
dwelling-places  and  temples,  but  had  loved  them.  Tlu 
Holy  City  was  not  a  lifeless  abstraction  of  the  head  ;  bul 
<i  sacred  and  delightful  image,  engraven  in  the  heart. 
And  hence  it  was,  that,  in  their  solitude  and  sorrow,  she 
nrose  before  them  so  distinctly,  •'  The  morning  star  of 
liiomory." 

<J  151.  Original  difference  in  the  mental  constitution. 

The  fourth  and  last  secondary  law  of  association  is 

I'KIGINAL    DIFFERENCE  IN    THE    MENTAL    CONSTITUTION. Tllis 

Law,  it  will  be  noticed,  is  expressed  in  the  most  general 
lerms ;  and  is  to  be  considered,  therefore,  as  applicable 
Loth  to  the  Intellectual  and  the  Sensitive  part  of  man. 
ft  requires,  accordingly,  to  be  contemplated  in  two  distinct 
points  of  view. 

The  law  of  original  difference  in  the  mental  constitu- 
tion is  applicable,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  Intellect,  prop- 
erly and  distinctively  so  called ;  in  other  words,  to  the 
i;omparing,  judging,  and  reasoning  part  of  the  soul.  That 
iliere  are  differences  in  men  intellectually,  it  is  presmned 
will  hardly  be  doubted,  although  this  difference  is  per- 
ceptible in  different  degrees,  and  in  some  cases  hardly 
perceptible  at  all.  And  these  original  or  constitutional 
peculiarities  reach  and  affect  the  associating  principle,  as 
well  as  other  departments  of  intellectual  action.  The  as- 
TOciations  of  the  great  mass  of  mankind  (perhaps  it  may 
be  entirely  owing  in  some  cases  to  the  accidental  circum- 
stance of  a  want  of  education  and  intellectual  develope- 
ment)  appear  to  run  exclusively  in  the  channel  of  Conti- 
guity in  time  and  place.  They  contemplate  objects  in 
their  nearness  and  distance,  in  their  familiar  and  outward 
exhibitions,  without  examining  closely  into  analogies  and 
differences,  or  considering  them  in  the  important  relation 
of  cause  and  effect.  But  not  unfrequently  we  find  persons 
whose  rainds  are  differently  constructed,  who  exhibit  a 


1.64  ASS()CZATION 

nigliei  Order  of  perception.  But  e\  2n  in  these  cases  Wd 
Eometimes  detect  a  striking  difference  in  the  apphcation 
of  their  intellectual  powers.  One  person,  for  instance, 
has  from  childhood  exhibited  a  remarkable  command  of 
the  relations  and  combinations  of  numbers ;  another  ex- 
hibits, in  like  manner,  an  uncommon  perception  of  uses 
adaptations,  and  powers,  as  they  are  brought  together, 
and  set  to  work  in  the  mechanic  arts ;  another  has  the 
power  of  generalizing  in  an  uncommon  degree,  and,  hav- 
ing obtanied  possession  of  a  principle  in  a  particular  case, 
which  may  appear  to  others  perfectly  and  irretrievably 
insulated,  he  at  once  extends  it  to  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  other  cases.  In  no  one  of  these  instances  does  the  As- 
Bociating  power  operate  in  precisely  the  same  way,  bu* 
exhibits  in  each  a  new  aspect  or  phasis  of  action. 

It  it  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  delay  here,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  confirming  what  has  now  been  said  by  a  refer- 
ence to  the  history  of  individuals.  A  shght  acquaintance 
with  literary  history  will  show  that  diversities  of  intellect, 
such  as  have  been  alluded  to,  and  founded  too  in  a  great 
degree  on  peculiarities  of  the  associating  principle,  have 
been  frequent.  How  often  had  the  husbandman  seen  the 
apple  fall  to  the  ground  without  even  asking  for  the  cause  1 
But  when  Newton  saw  the  fall  of  an  apple,  he  not  only 
asked  for  the  cause,  but,  having  conjectured  it,  he  at  once 
perceived  its  applicability  to  everything  in  like  circum- 
stances around  him,  to  all  the  descending  bodies  on  thf 
earth's  surface.  And  this  v.^as  not  all.  Immediately  ex- 
panding the  operations  of  the  principle  which  he  had 
detected,  from  the  surface  of  the  earth  to  the  stars  of 
heaven,  he  showed  its  universality,  and  proved  that  the 
most  distant  planet  is  controlled  by  the  same  great  \a\\ 
which  regulates  the  particles  of  dust  beneath  our  feet. — 
Here  w^as  a  mind,  not  merely  great  by  toil,  but  constitu- 
tionally great  and  inventive  ;  a  mind  w^hich  was  regula- 
ted in  "its  action,  not  by  the  law  of  mere  contiguity  in  time 
and  place,  but  by  the  more  efTective  associating  piinciples 
nf  Analogy,  and  of  Cause  and  Effect. 

(}  152.  The  foregoing  law  as  applicable  to  the  sensibilities. 

The  law  under  consideration  holds  good,  in  the  skcoyo 


(if.)   SECOND.VRY    LAWS.  Jb5 

place,  in  respect  to  original  difTerence^  of  emolioii  Qud 
passion,  or,  as  it  is  more  commonly  expressed,  of  disposi- 
tion. It  will  help  to  make  us  understood  if  \vc  allude 
briefly  in  this  part  of  the  subject  to  two  different  classes 
of  persons.  One  of  the  descriptions  of  men  which  we 
have  now  in  view  is  composed  of  those,  for  such  are  un- 
doubtedly to  be  found,  who  are  of  a  pensive  and  melan- 
choly turn.  From  their  earliest  life  they  have  shown 
a  fondness  for  seclusion,  in  order  that  they  might  either 
commune  with  the  secrets  of  their  own  hearts,  or  hold  in- 
tercourse, undisturbed  by  others,  with  whatever  of  iir- 
pressivencss  and  sublimity  is  to  be  found  in  the  v/orks  oi 
nature.  The  other  class  are  naturally  of  a  lively  and 
cheerful  temperament.  If  they  delight  in  nature,  it  is 
not  in  solitude,  but  in  the  company  of  others.  While 
they  seldom  throw  open  their  hearts  for  the  admission  of 
troubled  thoughts,  they  oppose  no  obstacle  to  the  entrance 
of  the  sv/eet  beams  of  peace,  and  joy,  and  hope. 

Now  it  is  beyond  question  that  the  primary  laws  of  as 
sociation  are  influenced  by  the  constitutional  tendencies 
manifest  in  these  two  classes  of  persons ;  that  is  to  say^ 
m  the  minds  of  two  individuals,  the  one  of  a  cheerful,  the 
other  of  a  melancholy  or  gloomy  disposition,  the  trains 
of  thought  will  be  very  different.  This  differrnce  is  fine- 
}y  illustrated  in  those  beautiful  poems  of  Mihon,  l'alle  • 
liRO  and  IL  PENSEROso.  L'allegro,  or  the  cheerful  man, 
finds  pleasure  and  cheerfulness  in  every  object  which  he 
beholds.  The  great  sun  puts  on  his  amber  light,  tlu' 
mower  whets  his  scythe,  the  milkmaid  sings, 

"  And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale." 

But  the  man  of  a  melancholy  disposition,  il  PENSEROsa 
chooses  the  evening  for  his  walk,  as  most  suitable  to  the 
temper  of  his  mind ;  he  listens  from  some  lonely  hillock 
to  the  distan';  curfew,  and  loves  to  hear  the  song  of  that 
^  sweet  bird  J 

"  That  ehun'st  f.c  noise  of  folly. 
Most  musical,  most  melancholy." 

Further :  Our  trains  of  suggested  thoughts  will  be 
modified  by  those  temporary  feelings,  which  may  be  re« 


I  bo  MEMORY 

irarded  as  exceptions  to  the  more  general  character  ol 
uiir  dispositions.  The  cheerfal  man  is  not  always  cheer- 
ful, nor  is  the  melancholy  man  at  all  times  equally  sober 
and  contemplative.  They  are  known  to  exchange  char- 
acters for  short  periods,  sometimes  in  consequence  of  good 
or  ill  health,  or  of  happy  or  adverse  fortune,  and  some- 
times for  causes  which  cannot  be  easily  explained.  So 
that  our  mental  states  will  be  found  to  follow  each  other 
vrith  a  succession,  varying  not  only  with  the  general  char- 
acter of  our  temper  and  dispositions,  but  with  the  transi- 
tory emotions  of  the  day  or  hour. 

All  the  laws  of  association  may  properly  be  given  here 
in  a  condensed  view.  The  primary  or  general  laws  are 
RESEMBLANCE,  CONTRAST,  CONTIGUITY  in  time  and  place, 
and  CAUSE  and  effecf.  Those  circmiistances  wdiich  are 
found  particularly  to  modify  and  control  the  action  oi 
these,  are  termed  secondary  laws,  and  are  as  follows : 
Lapse  of  time.  Repetition  or  habit,  Co-existent  feeling 
and  Constitutional  difference  in  mental  character. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 


MEMORY. 


i)  ]  53.   Remarks  on  the  general  nature  of  memory. 

In  the  further  prosecution  of  our  subject,  we  naturalh 
proceed  from  Association  to  the  examination  of  th« 
Memory,  inasmuch  as  the  latter  necessarily  implies  the 
antecedent  existence  of  the  former,  and  in  its  veiy  na- 
ture is  closely  allied  to  it.  In  reference  to  the  great  ques- 
tion of  the  Origin  of  human  Knowledge,  the  Memoiy,  as 
has  already  been  intimated,  is  to  be  considered  a  source 
of  knowledge,  rather  in  its  connexion  with  other  mental 
susceptibiliti'es  than  in  itself.  It  does  not  appear  how 
we  could  form  any  abstract  ideas,  based  upon  a  knowl- 
e^lge  of  objects  and  classes  of  objects,  without  the  aid  of 
memoiy ;  and  it  is  well  known,  that  its  presence  and  ac- 
tion is  essentially  involved  in  all  the  exercises  (^f  the  rea- 


MKMLK\  167 

wning  power  and  of  the  imagination.  Witnout  delaying 
however,  on  its  connexion  with  the  origin  of  knowledge 
we  shall  proceed  to  consider  the  susceptibility  itself,  both 
in  its  general  nature  and  in  some  of  its  peculiarities. 

Memory  is  that  power  or  susceptibility  of  the  mind  by 
which  those  conceptions  are  originated  which  are  modi- 
fied by  a  perception  of  the  relation  of  past  time.  Ac- 
coidingly,  it  is  not  a  simple,  but  complex  action  of  the 
intellectual  principle,  implying,  (1.)  a  conception  of  the 
object;  (2.)  a  perception  of  the  relation  of  priority  in  ila 
existence.  That  is,  we  not  only  have  a  conception  of 
the  object,  but  this  conception  is  attended  with  the  con  • 
viction  that  it  underwent  the  examination  of  our  senses, 
or  was  in  some  way  perceived  by  us  at  some  former  pe- 
riod. 

When  we  imagine  that  we  stand  in  the  midst  of  a  for- 
est or  on  the  top  of  a  mountain,  but  remain  safe  all  the 
while  at  our  own  fireside,  these  pleasing  ideas  of  woods, 
and  of  skies  painted  over  us,  and  of  plains  under  our 
ket,  are  mere  conceptions.  But  when  with  these  insu- 
lated conceptions  w^e  connect  the  relation  of  time,  and 
they  gleam  upon  our  souls  as  the  woods,  plains,  and 
mountains  of  our  youthful  days,  then  those  intellectual 
states,  which  were  before  mere  conceptions,  become  re 
MEMBRANCEs.  And  the  power  which  the  mind  possesses 
of  originating  these  latter  complex  states,  is  what  usually 
goes  under  the  name  of  the  power  or  faculty  of  memory. 

^  154.  Of  memory  as  a  ground  or  law  of  belief. 

Memory,  as  explained  in  the  preceding  section,  is  y 
ground  or  law  of  Belief.  So  far  as  we  have  no  particu- 
lar reason  to  doubt  that  the  sensations  and  perceptions  in 
any  given  case  are  correctly  reported  in  the  remembrance, 
the  latter  controls  our  belief  and  actions  not  less  than 
those  antecedent  states  of  mind  on  which  it  is  founded. 
Such  is  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind. — It  wall  he 
noticed,  that,  in  asserting  the  natural  dependence  of  be- 
lief on  memory,  we  guard  it  by  an  express  limitation.  Il 
IS  only  when  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt  of  our  antece- 
dent experiences  being  correctly  reported  in  Ih^  remem 
brances,  that  our  reliance  on  them  is  of  the  highest  kind 


168  memjry 

Every  man  knows,  from  a  species  of  in'.ernal  fee.in^ 
wliether  there  Lo  grounds  for  doubting  his  memory  in  any 
particular  case  or  not;  for  the  same  Consciousness  which 
gives  him  a  knowledge  of  the  yac^  of  memory,  gives  him 
a  knowledge  of  the  degree  also  in  which  it  exists ;  \dz., 
whether  in  a  hifjh  dcQ-ree  or  low,  whether  distinct  or  ob- 
scure.  If  it  be  the  fact  that  he  finds  reason  for  suspect- 
rng  its  reports,  his  reliance  will  either  be  diminished  iu 
proportion  to  this  suspicion,  or  he  will  take  means,  if  lie 
ue  able  to,  to  remove  the  grounds  of  such  suspicion. 

It  cannot  reasonably  be  anticipated,  that  any  objection 
will  be  made  to  the  doctrine  of  a  reliance  on  memory, 
with  the  limitation  which  has  now  been  mentioned 
Without  such  reliance,  our  situa-tion  would  be  no  better, 
at  least,  than  if  we  had  been  framed  with  an  utter  ina- 
bility to  rely  on  the  Senses  or  on  Testimony ;  we  could 
hardly  sustain  an  existence ;  we  certainly  could  not  de- 
rive anything  in  aid  of  that  existence  from  the  experi- 
f^nce  of  the  past. 

ij  155.   Of  differences  in  the  strength  of  memory. 

The  ability  to  remember  is  the  common  privilege  of  all, 
and,  generally  spealdng,  it  is  possessed  in  nearly  equa 
degrees.  To  each  one  there  is  given  a  sufficient  readi- 
ness in  this  respect :  his  power  of  remembrance  is  such  as 
to  answer  all  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life.  But,  although 
there  is,  in  general,  a  nearly  equal  distribution  of  this 
power,  we  find  a  few  instances  of  great  weakness,  and 
other  instances  of  great  strength  of  memory. 

It  is  related  by  Seneca  of  the  Roman  orator  Horten- 
sius,  that,  after  sitting  a  whole  day  at  a  public  sale,  he 
gave  an  account,  from  memory,  in  the  evening,  of  all  thingi^ 
sold,  with  the  prices  and  the  names  of  the  purchasers; 
and  this  account,  when  compared  with  what  had  been 
taken  in  writing  by  a  notary,  was  found  to  be  exact  in 
every  particular. 

The  following  is  an  instance  of  strength  of  memory 
somewhat  remarkable. — An  Englishman,  at  a  certain 
rime,  came  to  Frederic  the  Great  of  Prussia,  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  giving  hits  loi  exhibition  of  his  power  o£ 
recollection      Frederic;  s<^    >r  Voltaire,  who  read  to  the 


MEMORV  169 

Inng  a  pretty  lon^  poem  which  he  had  just  finished.  The 
Englishman  was  present,  and  was  in  such  a  position  that 
he  could  hear  every  word  of  the  poem ;  but  was  conceal- 
ed Irom  Voltaire's  notice.  Alter  the  reading  of  the  poem 
was  finished,  Frederic  observe<l  to  the  author  that  the 
pro  Uiclion  could  not  be  an  original  one,  as  there  was  a 
foreign  gentleman  present  who  could  recite  every  word 
of  it.  Voltaire  listened  with  amazement  to  the  stranger, 
as  he  repeated,  word  for  word,  the  poem  which  he  had 
oeen  at  so  much  pains  in  composing ;  and,  giving  way  to 
a  momentaiy  freak  of  passion,  he  tore  the  manuscript  in 
pieces.  A  statement  was  then  made  to  him  of  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  the  Englishman  became  ac 
quainted  with  his  poem,  which  had  the  effect  to  mitigate 
his  anger,  and  he  was  very  willing  to  do  penance  for  the 
suddenness  of  bis  passion  by  copying  down  the  work 
from  a  second  repetition  of  it  by  the  stranger,  who  was 
able  to  go  through  wath  it  as  before. 

A  considerable  number  of  instances  of  this  description 
are  found  in  the  recorded  accounts  of  various  individuals , 
but  they  must  be  considered  as  exceptions  to  the  general 
featuref  of  the  human  mind,  the  existence  of  which  it  is 
diflficult  to  explain  on  any  known  principles.  They  are 
probably  original  and  constitutional  traits ;  and,  if  such 
be  the  case,  they  necessarily  preclude  any  explanation 
further  than  what  is  involved  in  the  mere  statement  of 
that  fact.  There  are,  however,  some  diversities  and  pe- 
culiarities of  memory,  less  striking,  perhaps,  than  thosf 
just  referred  to,  which  admit  a  more  detailed  notice 

i  156.  Of  circumstantial  memory,  or  that  species  of  memory  which  is 
based  on  the  relations  of  contiguity  in  time  and  place. 

There  is  a  species  of  memory,  more  than  usually  obvi* 
ous  and  outward  in  its  character,  which  is  based  essen  • 
♦ially  upon  the  relations  of  Contiguity  in  time  and  place 
— In  the  explanation  of  this  form  or  species  of  memory, 
it  may  be  proper  to  recur  a.  moment  to  the  explanations 
on  the  general  nature  of  memory  which  have  already  been 
given.  It  will  be  kept  in  mind,  that  our  remembrances 
are  merely  conceptions  modified  by  a  perception  of  the 
v-HJation  of  past  time.     Removing,  Ihen^  the  modification 

P 


170  iVIKMOKY. 

of  past  time,  ^nd  the  remaining  elemeiil  of  our  Tenn-m- 
brances  will  Le  conceptions  merely.  Our  conceptions,  il 
is  obvious,  cannot  be  called  up  by  a  mere  voluntary  ef 
fort,  because  to  will  the  existence  of  a  conception  neccs- 
«iarily  imjilies  the  actual  existence  of  the  conception  al- 
ready in  the  mind.  They  arise  in  the  mind,  therefore,  in 
obedience  to  the  influence  of  some  of  those  principles  ji 
ASSOCIATION  which  have  already  been  considered.  And 
Memoiy,  accordingly,  will  assume  a  peculiarity  of  aspect 
corresponding  to  the  associating  principle  which  predom- 
mates.  If  it  be  based,  for  instance,  on  the  law  of  Con- 
tiguity, as  it  will  deal  chiefly  with  mere  facts,  and  theij 
outward  incidents  and  circimistances,  without  entering 
deeply  into  their  interior  nature,  it  will  be  what  may  be 
described,  not  merely  as  an  obvious  and  practical,  but,  in 
particular,  as  a  circumstantial  memory.  If  it  be  based 
chiefly  on  the  other  principles,  it  may  be  expected  to  ex- 
hibit a  less  easy  and  flexible,  a  less  minute  and  specific, 
but  a  more  philosophical  character. 

That  species  of  memory  which  is  founded  chiefly  on 
the  law  of  contiguity,  and  which  is  distinguished  by  its 
specificalness  or  circumstantiality,  will  be  found  to  pre- 
vail especially  among  uneducated  people,  not  merely  arti- 
sans and  other  labouring  classes,  but  among  all  those,  in 
whatever  situation  of  life,  who  have  either  not  possessed, 
or  possessing,  have  not  employed,  the  means  of  intellect- 
ual culture.  Every  one  must  have  recollected  instances- 
of  the  great  readiness  exhibited  by  these  persons,  in  theii 
recollection  of  facts,  places,  times,  names,  specific  arrange- 
ments in  dress  and  in  buildings,  traditions,  and  local  inci- 
dents. In  their  narrations,  for  instance,  of  what  has  come 
within  their  knowledge,  they  will,  in  general,  be  found 
to  specify  the  time  of  events ;  not  merely  an  indefinite  or 
approximated  time,  but  the  identical  year,  and  month, 
and  day,  and  hour.  In  their  description  of  persons  and 
places,  and  in  their  account  of  the  dress  and  equipage  o\ 
persons,  and  of  the  localities  and  incidents  of  places,  the) 
Eire  found  to  be  no  less  particular. 

(j  157.   Illustrations  of  specific  or  circumstantial  memory. 

The  great  masters  of  h'oman  nature  ( Shakspeare  amou,? 


MEMORY.  17  \ 

jthere)  hav^  occasionally  indicated  their  knowledge  oi 
this  species  of  niemory.  Mrs,  Quickly,  in  reminding  Fal- 
staff  of  his  promise  of  marriage,  discoveis  her  readiness 
of  recollection  m  the  specification  of  the  great  variety  of 
circumstances  under  which  the  promise  was  made.  Her 
recollection  in  the  case  was  not  a  mere  general  remem- 
brance of  the  solitary  fact,  but  was,  in  the  manner  of  a 
vviiness  in  a  court  of  justice,  circumstantial. — "  Thou  didst 
swear  to  me  on  a  parcel-gilt  goblet,  sitting  in  my  Dolphin 
3hamber,  at  the  round  table,  by  a  sea-coal  fire,  on  Wed- 
nesday in  Whitsun  week,  when  the  prince  broke  thy  head 
for  likening  him  to  a  singing  man  of  Windsor." — The 
coachman  in  Cornelius  Scriblerus  gives  an  account  of 
what  he  had  seen  in  Bear  Garden :  "  Two  men  fought  foi 
a  prize ;  one  was  a  fair  man,  a  sergeant  in  the  guards ; 
the  other  black,  a  butcher ;  the  sergeant  had  red  trousers, 
the  butcher  blue ;  they  fought  upon  a  stage  about  foui 
o'clock,  and  the  sergeant  wounded  the  butcher  in  the  leg.'"" 

/  158.   Of  philosophic  memory,  or  that  species  of  memory  which  is  basefa 
on  other  relations  than  those  of  contiguity. 

There  is  another  species  of  memory,  clearly  distinguish 
■ible  from  the  circumstantial  memory,  which  may  be  de- 
scribed as  the  Philosophic.  This  form  of  meraoiy,  relying 
but  seldom  on  the  aids  of  mere  Contiguity,  is  sustained 
liiiefly  by  the  relations  of  Resemblance,  Contrast,  and 
Cause  and  Effect.  The  circumstantial  memory,  which 
deals  almost  exchisively  with  minute  particulars,  and  es- 
pecially with  ihose  which  are  accessible  by  the  outward 
senses^  admirably  answers  the  purpose  of  those  persons  in 
whom  it  is  commonly  found.  But  mere  contiguity  in  time 
and  place,  which  is  almost  the  sole  principle  that  binds 
together  facts  and  events  in  the  recollection  of  those  whose 
powers  are  but  imperfectly  developed,  possesses  compar- 
atively little  value  in  the  estimation  of  the  philosopher 
He  looks  mort  deeply  into  the  nature  of  things.  Bestow 
ing  but  slight  attention  on  what  is  purely  outward  and 
incidental,  he  detects  with  a  discriminating  eye  the  anal- 
ogies and  oppositions,  the  causes  and  consequences  of 
events.  It  would  seem  that  the  celebrated  AIontaign€ 
was  destitute,  perhaps  in  a  more  than  common  degree,  of 


}72  MEMORY. 

that  form  of  reminiscence  which  w€  have  pioposed  U 
designate  as  the  circumstantial  memc;y.  He  says  on  a 
certain  occasion  of  himself,  "  I  am  forced  to  call  my  ser- 
vants by  the  names  of  their  employments,  or  of  the  coun- 
tries where  they  were  born,  for  I  can  hardly  remember 
iheir  proper  names ;  and  if  I  should  live  long,  I  question 
whether  i  should  remember  my  own  name."  But  it  does 
not  appear,  notwithstanding  his  inability  to  remember 
rinmes  and  insulated  facts,  especially  if  they  related  to 
the  occurrences  of  common  life,  that  he  had  much  reason 
to  complain  of  an  absolute  want  of  memory.  His  wri- 
tings indicate  his  cast  of  mind,  that  he  was  reflective  and 
speculative  ;  and  he  expressly  gives  us  to  understand,  that 
he  was  much  more  interested  in  the  study  of  the  princi- 
ples of  human  nature  than  of  outward  objects.  Accord- 
ingly, the  result  was  such  as  might  be  expected,  that  his 
memoiy  was  rather  philosophical  than  circumstantial, 
and  more  tenacious  of  general  principles  than  of  specific 
facts. 

d  159.   Illustrations  of  philosophic  memory. 

A  man  whose  perceptions  are  naturally  philosophic,  and 
v.hose  ren)embrances  consequently  take  the  same  turn, 
may  not  be  able  to  make  so  rapid  and  striking  advances 
in  all  branches  of  knowledge,  as  a  person  of  a  different 
intellectual  bias.  Almost  every  department  of  science 
presents  itself  to  the  student's  notice  under  two  forms, 
the  practical  and  theoretical ;  its  facts  and  its  rules  of 
proceeding  on  the  one  hand,  and  its  principles  on  the 
other.  The  circumstantial  memory  rapidly  embraces  the 
practical  part,  seizing  its  facts  and  enunciating  its  rules 
with  a  promptness  of  movement  and  a  show  of  power 
which  throws  the  philosophic  memory  quite  into  the 
shade.  But  it  is  otherwise  w^hen  they  advance  into  the 
less  obvious  and  showy,  but  more  fertile  region  of  analo- 
gies, classification,  and  principles. — On  this  topic  Mr 
Stewart  has  some  pertinent  remarks.  "  A  man  destitute 
of  genius,"  [that  is  to  say,  in  this  connexion,  of  a  natu- 
rally philosophic  turn  of  niind,]  "may,  with  little  effcrt, 
treasure  up  in  his  memory  a  number  of  particulars  in 
Rhcmistrv  or  natural  history,  which  he  refers  to  no  pnrv 


MEMORY  '  17d 

tiple,  and  Irore  which  he  deduces  ,10  coi  elusion ;  and  froni 
his  faciUty  in  acquiring  this  st(jck  of  information,  may 
flatter  himself  with  the  belief  that  he  possesses  a  na'.ural 
taste  for  these  branches  of  knowledge.  But  they  who 
are  really  destined  to  extend  the  boundaiies  of  science, 
when  they  first  enter  on  new  pursuits,  feel  their  attention 
distracted,  and  their  memory  oveiloaded  with  facts, 
among  which  they  can  trace  no  relation,  and  are  some- 
times apt  to  despair  entirely  of  their  future  progress.  In 
due  time,  however,  their  superiority  appears,  and  arises 
in  part  from  that  vei-y  dissatisfaction  which  they  at  first 
experienced,  and  which  does  not  cease  to  stimulate  their 
inquiries,  till  they  are  enabled  to  trace,  amid  a  chaos  of 
apparently  unconnected  materials,  that  simphcity  and 
beauty  which  always  characterize  the  operations  of  na- 
ture." 

()  160.  Of  that  species  of  memory  called  intentional  recollection 

There  is  a  species  or  exercise  of  the  memory  knowij 
as  INTENTIONAL  RECOLLECTION,  the  explanation  of  which 
renders  it  proper  briefly  to  recur  again  to  the  nature  of 
memory  in  general. — The  definition  of  memory  which  has 
oeen  given,  is,  that  it  is  the  power  or  susceptibility  of  thi^ 
■nind,  by  which  those  conceptions  are  originated,  which 
are  modified  by  the  perception  of  the  relation  of  past 
Hme,  This  definition  necessarily  resolves  memory,  in  a 
considerable  degree  at  least,  into  Association.  But  it  will 
be  recollected,  that  our  trains  of  associated  thought  are 
not,  in  the  strict  sense,  voluntary  ;  that  is,  are  not  directly 
under  the  control  of  the  will.  They  come  and  depart 
^we  speak  now  exclusively  of  their  originatiori)  without 
Its  being  possible  for  us  to  exercise  anything  more  than 
an  INDIRECT  power  over  them.  It  follows,  from  these 
facts,  that  our  remembrances  also,  which  may  be  regard- 
ed in  part  as  merely  associated  trains,  are  not,  in  the 
stiict  sense,  \ol  mtary ;  or,  in  other  words,  it  is  impossible 
for  us  to  remember  in  consequence  of  merely  choosing  to 
remember.  To  will  or  to  choose  to  lemember  any- 
thing, implies  that  the  thing  in  question  is  already  in  the 
mind ;  and  hence  there  is  not  only  an  impt/ssibility  result* 
iDg  from  th«  nature  of  the  mind,  b^it  also  an  absurxlit}',  b 
P2 


1V4  ^  MEMORY. 

the  idea  of  c  ailing  up  thought  by  a  mere  direct  %  olitinu 
Our  chief  power,  therefore,  in  quickening  and  strength- 
ening the  memory,  will  be  found  to  consist  in  our  skill  in 
applying^  and  modifying  the  various  principles  or  laws  ol 
association.  And  this  brings  us  to  an  explanation  of 
wnat  IS  called  intentional  memory  or  recollection. 

^   161.   Nature  of  intentional  recollection. 

Whenever  we  put  forth  an  exercise  of  intentional 
memory,  or  make  a  formal  attempt  to  remember  some  cir- 
cumstance, it  is  evident  that  the  event  in  general,  of 
which  the  circumstance,  when  recalled,  will  be  found  to 
be  a  part,  must  have  previously  been  an  object  of  atten- 
tion. That  is,  we  remember  the  great  outlines  of  some 
story,  but  cannot  in  the  first  instance  give  a  complete  ac- 
count of  it,  which  we  wish  to  do.  We  make  an  effort  to 
recall  the  circumstances  not  remembered  in  two  ways. — 
We  may,  in  \hejirst  place,  form  different  suppositions, 
and  see  which  agrees  best  with  the  general  outlines  ;  the 
general  features  or  outlines  of  the  subject  being  detained 
before  us,  with  a  considerable  degree  of  permanency,  by 
means  of  some  feeling  of  desire  or  interest.  This  method 
of  restoring  thoughts  is  rather  an  inference  of  reasoning 
than  a  genuine  exercise  of  memory. 

We  may,  in  the  second  place,  merely  delay  upon  those 
\houghts  which  we  already  hold  possession  of,  and  re- 
volve them  in  our  minds  ;  until,  aided  by  some  principle 
of  association,  we  are  able  to  lay  hold  of  the  particular 
ideas  for  which  we  were  searching.  Thus,  when  we  en- 
deavour to  recite  what  we  had  previously  committed  to 
memory,  but  are  at  a  loss  for  a  particular  passage,  we 
repeat  a  number  of  times  the  concluding  words  of  the 
preceding  sentence.  In  this  way,  the  sentence  which 
was  forgotten  is  very  frequently  recalled. 

f)   162.   Instance  illustrative  of  the  preceding  statements. 

The  subject  of  the  preceding  section  will  perhaps  be 
more  distinctly  understood,  in  connexion  with  the  follow- 
ing illustration.  Dr.  Beattie  informs  us,  that  he  was  hira 
Belf  acquainted  w^ith  a  clergyman,  who,  on  being  attack- 
ed with  a  fit  of  apoplexv,  was  found  to  have   forgotter 


il(  the  tiansactions  of  the  four  years  immediately  pre* 
ceding  the  attack.  And  yet  he  remembered  is  wtll  as 
ever  what  had  happened  before  that  period.  The  news- 
papers which  were  printed  during  the  period  mentioned 
were  read  with  interest,  and  afforded  him  a  great  deal  oi 
amusement,  being  entirely  new  to  him.  It  is  further 
stated,  that  this  individual  recovered  by  degrees  ail  he 
had  lost ;  so  as,  after  a  while,  to  have  nearly  or  quite  as 
full  a  remembrance  of  tha*^^  period  as  others.  In  this  in- 
stance the  power  of  the  principles  of  association  appears 
to  have  been  at  first  completely  prostrated  by  the  disease, 
without  any  prospect  of  their  being  again  brought  into 
action,  except  by  some  assistance  afforded  them.  This 
assistance,  no  doubt,  was  conversation,  the  renewed  no- 
tice of  various  external  objects  addressed  to  the  senses, 
and  reading.  By  reading  old  newspapers,  and  by  con- 
versation in  particular,  he  occasionally  fell  upon  ideas 
M'hich  he  had  not  only  been  possessed  of  before,  but 
which  had  been  associated  with  other  ideas,  forming 
•originally  distinct  and  condensed  trains  of  thought.  And 
thus  whole  series  were  restored. — Other  series  again  were 
recovered  by  applying  the  methods  of  intentional  recol- 
lection ;  that  is,  by  forming  suppositions  and  comparing 
them  wath  the  ideas  already  recovered,  or  by  voluntarily 
delaying  upon  and  revolving  in  mind  such  trains  as  were 
restored,  and  thus  rousing  up  others.  Such  w-e  can  hard- 
iy  doubt  to  have  been,  in  the  main,  the  process  by  which 
the  person  of  whom  we  are  speaking  recovered  thf 
knowledge  he  had  lost. 

These  views,  in  addition  to  what  has  now  been  said, 
may  be  illustrated  also  by  what  we  sometimes  observe  in 
old  men.  Question  them  as  to  the  events  of  early  life, 
and  at  times  they  will  be  unable  to  give  any  answer 
whatever.  But  Avhenever  you  mention  some  prominent 
incident  of  their  young  days,  or  perhaps  some  friend  on 
whom  many  associations  have  gathered,  it  will  often  be 
found  that  their  memory  revives,  and  that  they  are  able 
to  state  many  things  in  respect  to  which  they  were  pre* 
«      sly  silent. 

^  163.  Marks  of  a  good  memory. 
The  gr(;a*  purpose  to  which  the  facult/  of  meraorv  is 


1 76  MEMiJRl . 

subservient,  is  to  enable  us  to  j-etain  the  knowledge  whiCE 
we  have  from  our  experiences  for  future  use.  Thf 
prominent  marks  of  a  good  memory,  therefoie,  are  these 
two,  viz.,  tenacity  in  retaining  ideas,  and  readine&s  in 
bringing  them  forward  on  necessary  occasions. 

First  ;  of  tenacity,  or  power  of  retaming  ideas. — The 
inpressions  which  are  made  on  some  minds  are  durable 
'ihey  are  like  channels  worn  away  in  stone,  and  names 
engraven  in  monumental  marble,  which  defy  the  opera- 
lion  of  the  ordinary  caus3S  of  decay,  and  v,'ithstand  even 
the  defacing  touch  of  time.  But  other  memories,  which 
at  first  seemed  to  grasp  as  much,  are  destitute  of  this 
power  of  retention.  The  inscriptions  made  upon  them 
are  like  characters  written  on  the  sand,  which  the  first 
breath  of  wind  covers  over,  or  like  figures  on  a  bank  ol 
snow,  which  the  sun  shines  upon  and  «ielts.  The  inferi- 
ority of  the  latter  description  of  memory  to  the  forme! 
must  be  obvious ;  so  much  so  as  to  requii'e  no  comment 
A  memory  whose  power  of  retaining  is  greatly  dimin- 
ished, of  course  loses  a  great  part  of  its  value. 

Second  ;  of  reafhness,  or  facility  in  bringing  forward 
what  is  remembered. — Some  persons  who  cannot  be  sup- 
posed to  be  deficient  in  tenacity  of  remembrance,  appear 
to  fail  in  a  confident  and  prompt  conmiand  of  what  they 
remember.  Some  mistake  has  been  committed  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  their  knowledge  ;  there  has  been  some  de- 
fect in  the  mental  discipline ;  or  for  some  other  cause, 
whatever  it  may  be,  they  often  discover  perplexity,  and 
remember  slowly  and  indistinctly.  This  is  a  great  prac- 
tical evil,  which  not  only  ought  to  be,  but  which  can,  in 
a  great  degree,  be  guarded  against. 

It  is  true,  that  so  great  readiness  of  memory  cannot 
nationally  be  expected  in  men  of  philosophic  minds  as 
others,  for  the  reason  that  they  pay  but  little  or  no  atten- 
tion to  particular  facts,  except  for  the  purpose  of  dedu- 
cing from  them  general  principles.  But  it  is  no  less  true, 
that,  when  this  want  of  readiness  is  such  as  to  cause  a 
considerable  degree  of  perplexity,  it  must  be  regarded  a 
great  mental  defect.  And,  for  the  sanie  reason,  a  proirpl 
command  of  knowledge  is  to  be  regarded  a  mental  ex- 
v.ellence. 


MEM  OUT. 


^  184    Directions  or  rules  for  the  improve  nent  oi  (he  memory. 

In  whatever  point  of  view  the  memory  may  be  con 
teinpiated,  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  is  a  facuHy  always 
securing  to  us  inestimable  benefits.  For  the  purpose  of 
securing  the  most  efficient  action  of  this  valuable  faculty, 
and  particularly  that  tenacity  and  readiness  which  have 
been  spoken  of,  the  following  directions  may  be  found 
worlhy  of  attention. 

(1.)  .Never  he  satisfied  with  a  partial  or  half-acquaint' 
mce  with  things. — There  is  no  less  a  tendency  to  intel- 
lectual than  to  bodily  inactivity  ;  students,  in  order  to 
avoid  intellectual  toil,  are  too  much  inclined  to  pass  on 
in  a  hurried  and  careless  manner.  This  is  injurious  to 
the  memory.  "  Nothing,"  says  Dugald  Stewart,  "  has 
such  a  tendency  to  weaken,  not  only  the  powers  of  inven- 
tion, but  the  intellectual  powers  in  general,  as  a  habit  of 
extensive  and  various  reading  without  reflection."  Al- 
ways make  it  a  rule  fully  to  understand  what  is  gone 
over.  Those  who  are  determined  to  grapple  with  the 
subject  in  hand,  whatever  may  be  its  nature,  and  to  be- 
come master  of  it,  soon  feel  a  great  interest;  truths, 
which  were  at  first  obscure,  become  clear  and  familiar 
The  consequence  of  this  increased  clearness  and  interest 
is  an  increase  of  attention  ;  and  the  natural  result  of  this 
is,  Ihat  the..truths  are  very  strongly  fixed  in  the  memory. 

(IT.)  We  are  to  refer  our  knowledge,  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, to  general  principles. — To  refer  our  knowledge  to 
general  principles  is  to  classify  it ;  and  this  is  perhaps  thf. 
best  mode  of  classification.  If  a  lawyer  or  merchant 
were  to  throw  all  his  papers  together  promiscuously, 
he  could  not  calculate  on  much  readiness  in  finding 
what  he  might  at  any  time  want.  If  a  man  of  letterr 
were  to  record  in  a  commonplace  book  all  the  ideas  and 
facts  which  occurred  to  him,  without  any  method,  he 
would  experience  the  greatest  difficulty  in  .ijjplying  theia 
to  use.  It  is  the  same  with  a  memory  where  there  is  no 
classification.  Whoever  fixes  upon  some  general  princi- 
pies,  whether  political,  literaiy,  or  philosophical,  tind  col- 
lects facts  in  illustration  of  it,  will  find  no  difliculty  in  re- 
membering  them,  however  numerous  ;  when,  without  such 
general  principles,  the  recollection  of  them  wouki  havr 
l)een  extr(nnelv  burdensome 


178  MEMf)Ky. 

(fll. )  Consider  the  nature  of  the  study,  ond  make  use  0/ 
those  helps  which  are  thus  afforded. — This  rule  may  be 
illustrated  by  the  mention  of  some  de])artments  of  sci- 
ence. Thus,  in  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  geography, 
the  study  is  to  be  pursued  as  much  as  possible  with  the 
aii  of  good  globes,  charts,  and  maps.  It  requires  a 
great  effort  of  memory,  and  generally  an  unsuccessful 
cne,  tc  recollect  the  relative  extent  and  situation  of  pla- 
se?,  the  numerous  physical  and  political  divisions  of  the 
earth,  from  the  book.  The  advantages  of  studying  geog- 
ra]«hy  with  maps,  globes,  &c.,  are  two.  (1.)  The  form, 
relative  situation,  and  extent  of  countries  become,  in  thi? 
case,  ideas,  or,  rather,  conceptions  of  sight ;  suclr  con- 
ceptions (§  60)  are  very  vivid,  and  are  more  easily  called 
to  remembrance  than  others. 

(2.)  Our  remembrances  are  assisted  by  the  la\vof  con- 
tiguity in  place,  (§  145,)  which  is  known  to  be  one  of 
the  most  eflicient  aids.  When  we  hnve  once,  from  hav- 
ing a  map  or  globe  before  us,  formed  an  acquaintance 
with  the  general  visible  appearance  of  an  island,  a  gulf, 
an  ocean,  or  a  continent,  nothing  is  more  easy  than  to  re- 
member the  subordinate  divisions  or  parts.  Whenever 
we  have  examined,  and  fixed  in  our  minds  the  general 
appearance  or  outlines  of  a  paiticular  country,  we  do  not 
easily  forget  the  situation  of  those  countries.. which  are 
contiguous. 

We  find  another  illustration  of  this  rule  in  the  reading 
of  history. — There  is  such  a  multitude  of  facts  in  histori- 
cal writings,  that  to  endeavour  to  remember  them  all  is 
fruitless  ;  and,  if  it  could  be  done,  would  be  of  vei-y 
small  advantage.  Hence,  in  reading  the  history  of  any 
country,  fix  upon  two  or  three  of  the  most  interesting 
epochs  ;  make  them  the  subject  of  })aiticular  attention  ; 
learn  thr  spirit  of  the  age,  and  the  private  life  and  fcr- 
tunes  of  prominent  individuals  ;  in  a  word,  study  these 
periods  not  only  as  annalists,  but  as  philosophers.  When 
they  aie  thus  studied,  the  mind  can  hardly  fail  to  retain 
them ;  they  will  be  a  sort  of  landmarks ;  and  all  the  oth- 
er events  in  the  history  of  the  country,  before  and  after- 
ward, will  naturally  arrange  themselves  in  reference  to 
them      The  memory  will  strongly  seize  the  prominen' 


MEMORY 


ITS 


penoJs,  ill  consequence  ot  tiie  crreat  interest  felt  in  them ; 
and  (he  loss  impoiiant  parts  ol'  the  history  of  the  >iountry 
will  be  likely  to  be  retained,  so  far  as  is  necessary,  by  the 
aid  of  the  principle  of  contiguity,  and  without  giving 
them  great  attention. — Further,  historical  charts  or  genea- 
logical trees  of  history  are  of  some  assistance,  for  a  sim- 
ilar reason  that  maps,  globes,  &c.,  are  in  geography. 

This  rule  for  strengthening  the  memory  will  apply  also 
to  the  more  abstract  sciences. — "  In  every  science,"  says 
Stew^art,  (Elements,  ch.  vi.,  §  3,)  "  the  ideas,  about  w-hich 
it  is  pecuharly  conversant,  are  connected  together  by  some 
associating  principle ;  in  one  science,  for  instance,  by  as- 
sociations founded  on  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect;  in 
mother,  by  the  associations  founded  on  the  necessary  re 
lations  of  mathematical  truths." 

()  165.  Further  direclions  for  the  improvement  of  the  memory. 

(rV.)  The  order  in  which  things  are  laid  up  in  the 
memory  should  he  the  order  of  nature. — In  nature  eve- 
rything has  its  appropriate  place,  connexions,  and  rela- 
tions. Nothing  is  insulated,  and  wholly  cut  off',  as  it  were, 
from  everything  else ;  but  whatever  exists  or  takes  place 
falls  naturally  into  its  allotted  position  within  the  great 
sphere  of  creation  and  events.  Hence  the  rule,  that 
knowledge,  as  far  forth  as  possible,  should  exist  mentally 
or  subjectively  in  the  same  order  as  the  corresponding  ob- 
jective reality  exists.  The  laws  of  the  mind  will  be 
found  in  their  operation  to  act  in  harmony  with  the  laws 
of  external  nature.  They  are,  in  some  sense,  the  counter- 
parts of  each  other.  We  might  illustrate  the  benefits  of 
the  application  of  this  rule  by  referring  to  almost  any 
well-digested  scientific  article,  historical  nai ration,  poem, 
&r.  But  perhaps  its  full  import  will  be  more  readily  un 
(Vrstood  by  an  instance  of  its  utter  violation. 

A  person  was  one  day  boasting,  in  the  presence  of 
Foote,  the  comedian,  of  the  wonderful  facility  with  which 
he  could  commit  anything  to  memory,  wher  the  modern 
Aristophanes  said  he  would  write  down  a  dozen  lines 
in  prose  which  he  could  not  commit  to  memory  in  as 
many  minutes.  The  man  of  great  memory  accepted  the 
challenge ;  a  wager  was  laid,  and  Foote  ])ro'duced  the 


180  MEMORY 

following:.-  ""  So  she  went  into  the  garden ,  to  cut  a  cab- 
bage-leaf to  make  an  apple-pie ;  and  at  the  same  time  a 
^reat  she-bear  coming  up  the  street,  pops  its  head  into 
the  shop.  What,  no  soap  ?  So  he  died,  and  she  very 
imprudently  married  the  barber ;  and  there  were  present 
the  Piciniunies,  and  the  Joblillies,  and  the  Garyulies,  and 
ihe  grand  Panjandrum  himself,  with  the  little  round  but- 
ton at  the  top :  and  they  all  fell  to  playing  catch  as  catch 
can,  till  the  gunpowder  ran  out  of  the  heels  of  their 
Ijoots." — The  story  adds  that  Foote  won  the  wager.  A  nd 
it  is  very  evident  that  statements  of  this  description,  ut- 
terly disregarding  the  order  of  nature  and  events,  must 
defy,  if  carried  to  any  great  length,  the  strongest  memory. 
(V.)  The  memory  may  he  strengthened  by  exercise.— 
Our  minds,  when  lef  lO  sloth  and  inactivity,  lose  their  vig. 
our ;  but  when  they  are  kept  in  exercise,  and,  after  per- 
forming what  was  before  them,  are  tasked  with  new  re« 
quisitions,  it  is  not  easy  to  assign  limits  to  their  ability. 
This  seems  to  be  a  general  and  ultimate  law  of  our  na- 
ture. It  is  applicable  equally  to  every  original  suscepti- 
bility, and  to  every  combination  of  menta'  action  In  re- 
peated instances  we  have  had  occasior  to  refer  to  its 
results,  both  on  the  body  and  the  mind.  The  power  of 
perception  is  found  to  acquire  strength  and  acuteness  by 
exercise.  There  are  habits  of  conception  and  of  associa 
tion  as  well  as  of  perception  ;  and  we  shall  be  able  to 
detect  the  existence  and  operation  of  the  same  great 
principle,  when  we  come  to  speak  of  reasoning,  im- 
agination, &c.  As  this  principle  applies  equally  to  the 
memory,  we  are  able  to  secure  its  beneficial  results  by 
practising  that  repetition  or  exercise  on  which  they  are 
founded. 

^  16G.   Of  observance  of  the  truth  in  connexion  with  memory 

Another  help  to  the  memory,  which  has  seldom  been 
lioticed,  and  certainly  not  so  much  as  its  importance  de- 
mands, is  the  conscientious  and  strict  observap'^e  of  the 
truth. — It  will  be  found,  on  inquiry,  that  those  who  are 
scrupulous  in  this  respect  will  be  more  prompt  and  exact 
in  their  recollections,  within  tue  sphere  of  what  they  un« 
dertake  to  remember,  than  others.    A  man  of  this  descrip* 


DURATION    OF    MEMORY.  181 

non  may  possibly  not  remember  so  much  as  others ;  Ibi 
the  same  conscientiousness,  which  is  the  basis  of  his  ve- 
racity, would  instinctively  teach  him  to  reject  from  his 
intellectual  storehouse  a  great  deal  of  worthless  trash. 
But  within  the  limits  which,  for  good  reasons,  undoubt- 
edly, be  sets  to  his  recollections,  he  will  be  much  more 
«!xact,  much  more  to  be  relied  on,  provided  there  is  no 
original  or  constitutional  ground  of  difference.  It  has 
been  su^srested  in  reoard  to  Dr.  Johnson,  that  his  rigid 
attention  to  veracity,  his  conscientious  determination  to 
be  exact  in  his  statements,  was  the  reason,  in  a  consider- 
able degree,  that  his  memory  was  so  remarkably  tenacious 
and  minute.  And  the  suggestion  is  based  in  sound  phi^ 
losophy.  If  a.  man's  deep  and  conscientious  regard  for 
the  truth  be  such  that  he  cannot,  consistently  with  the 
requisitions  of  his  moral  nature,  repeat  to  others  mere 
vaguenesses  and  uncertainties,  he  will  naturally  give  such 
strict  and  serious  attention  to  tlie  present  objects  of  inquire 
and  knowledge,  *iiat  they  will  remain  in  his  memory  after- 
ward with  remaikable  distinctness  and  permanency. 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

DURATION    OF    MEMORY. 
^  \6l.  Restoration  of  thoughts  and  feelings  supposed  to  be  forgotten 

Before  quitting  the  subject  of  Memory,  there  is  anotl'ei 
point  of  view  not  wholly  wanting  in  interest,  in  w^hich  i* 
IS  susceptible  of  being  considered ;  and  that  is  the  per- 
manency or  duration  of  its  power  to  call  up  its  past  ex- 
periences. It  is  said  to  have  been  an  opinion  of  Lord 
Bacon,  that  no  thoughts  are  lost ;  that  they  continue  vir- 
tually to  exist ;  and  that  the  soul  possesses  within  itself 
laws  which,  whenever  fully  brought  into  action,  will  be 
found  capable  of  producing  the  prompt  and  perfect  resto- 
ration of  the  collected  acts  and  feelings  of  its  whole  past 
existence. 

This  opinion,  which  other  able  writers  have  fallen  in 
with,  15  clearly  worthy  of  examinatioi.,  especially  when 

Q 


182  OUBA.TION    0/   MEMOKT 

we  consider  that  't  has  a  practical  bearing,  and  'm\  lilves 
important  moral  and  religious  consequences.  S(>me  one 
will  perhajis  inquire,  Is  it  possible,  is  it  in  the  nature  of 
things,  that  we  should  be  able  to  recall  the  millions  of 
little  acts  and  feelings  which  have  transpired  in  the  whole 
course  of  our  lives  ?  Let  such  an  inquirer  be  induced  to 
consider,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  memory  has  its  fixed 
laws,  in  virtue  of  which  the  mental  exercises  are  recalled  ; 
and  that  there  can  be  found  no  direct  and  satisfactory 
proof  of  such  laws  ever  wholly  ceasing  to  exist.  Thai 
the  operation  of  those  laws  appears  to  be  weakened,  and 
is  in  fact  weakened,  by  lapse  of  time,  is  admitted ;  bui 
while  the  frequency,  promptness,  and  strength  of  theii 
action  may  be  diminished  in  any  assignable  degree,  tht 
laws  themselves  yet  remain.  This  is  the  view  of  the  sub- 
ject which  at  fiist  obviously  and  plainly  presents  itself; 
and,  we  may  venture  to  add,  is  recommended  by  common 
experience. 

It  is  known  to  every  one,  that  thoughts  and  feelings 
sometimes  unexpectedly  recur  which  had  slumbered  in 
forgetfulness  for  years.  Days,  and  months,  and  years 
have  rolled  on;  new  scenes  and  situations  occupy  us. 
and  all  we  felt,  and  saw,  and  experienced  in  those  forme: 
days  and  years,  appears  to  be  clothed  in  impenetrable 
darkness.  But  suddenly  some  unexpected  event,  the 
sight  of  a  waterfall,  of  a  forest,  of  a  house,  a  peculiarly 
pleasant  or  gloomy  day,  a  mere  change  of  countenance, 
a  word,  almost  anything  we  can  imagine,  arouses  the 
soul,  and  gives  a  new  and  vigorous  turn  to  its  meditations. 
At  such  a  moment  we  are  astonished  at  the  novel  revela- 
tions which  are  made,  the  recollections  which  are  called 
forth,  the  resurrections  of  withered  hopes  and  perished 
serrows  of  scenes  and  companioni,hi  os  that  seemed  to  be 
utterly  lost, 

"  Lulled  in  the  countless  chambers  of  the  brain, 
Our  thoughts  are  linked  by  many  a  hidden  chain. 
Awake  but  one,  and  lo,  what  myriads  rise  ! 
Each  stamps  its  image  as  the  other  flies." 

Tliis  is,  perhaps,  a  faint  exhibition  of  that  perfect  reslo. 
ration  of  thouglit  which  Bacon  and  other  philosophic  minds 
have  supposed  to  be  possible.     But  if  the  statement  ho 


DUKATION    OF    MEMORY  183 

correct,  it  is  imcloubtedly  one  circumstance  among  others 
in  suppoit  of  that  sentiment,  although  of  suboidinate 
weight. 

<  16S.  Mental  act'  rz  quickened  by  influence  on  the  physical  system. 

The  ability  of  the  mind  to  restore  its  past  experiences, 
depends,  in  some  degree,  on  the  state  of  the  physical  sys- 
tem. It  is  well  known  that  there  is  a  connexion  existing 
between  the  mind  and  the  body,  and  that  a  reciprocal 
influence  is  exercised.  It  is  undoubtedly  true,  that  thw 
mental  action  is  ordinarily  increased  or  diminished,  ac- 
cording as  the  body  is  more  or  less  affected.  And  may 
not  the  exercise  of  the  laws  of  memory  be  quickened,  as 
w^ell  as  the  action  of  other  powers  ?  While  it  is  admitted 
that  an  influence  on  the  body  exerts  an  influence  on  thh 
mind,  may  it  not  be  true  that  this  general  influence  some- 
times takes  the  particular  shape  of  exciting  the  recollec- 
tion, and  of  restoring  long-past  events  1 

There  are  various  facts  having  a  bearing  on  this  inqui- 
ry, and  which  seem  to  show  that  such  suggestions  are  not 
wholly  destitute  of  foundation.— It  appears,  for  instance, 
from  the  statements  of  persons  who  have  been  on  the 
point  of  drowning,  but  have  been  rescued  from  that  situ- 
ation, that  the  operations  of  their  minds  were  peculiarly 
quickened.  In  this  wonderful  activity  of  the  mental  prin- 
ciple, the  whole  past  life,  with  its  thousand  minute  inci- 
dents, has  almost  simultaneously  passed  before  them,  and 
been  viewed  as  in  a  mirror.  Scenes  and  situations  long 
gone  by,  and  associates  not  seen  for  years,  and  perhaps 
buried  and  dissolved  in  the  grave,  came  rushing  in  upon 
the  field  of  intellectual  vision  in  all  the  activity  and  dis- 
tinctness of  real  existence. 

If  sulIi  be  the  general  experience  in  cases  of  this  kiml, 
tt  confirms  a  number  of  important  views ;  placing  beyond 
iloubt  that  there  is  a  connexion  between  the  mind  and 
body ;  that  the  mental  operation  is  susceptible  of  being 
quickened  ;  and  that  such  increase  of  action  may  \e  at- 
tributable,  in  part  at  least,  to  an  influence  on  the  body. 
The  proximate  cause  of  the  great  acceleration  of  the  in- 
tellectual acts,  in  cases  of  drowning,  appears  to  be  {za 
will  be  found  to  be  the  fact  in  mani'  other  simila'-  cases) 


184  DTOATION    OF    MEMORY. 

an  alfection  of  the  brain.  Tliat  is  to  say ;  in  consequeiic<»' 
of  the  suspension  of  respiration,  the  blood  is  prevented 
ftom  readily  circulating  through  the  lungs,  and  henct 
becomes  accumulated  in  the  brain.  It  would  seem  that 
the  blood  is  never  thrown  into  the  brain  in  unusual  quan- 
titie5  '^vithout  being  attended  with  unusual  mental  alfecv 
tioiis 

^  I8S    Omer  instances  of  q  lickened  mental  action,  and  of  a  restoration 
of  thoughts. 

The  doctrine  which  has  been  proposed,  that  the  mental 
action  may  be  quickened,  and  *,hat  thert  may  be  a  resto- 
ration or  remembrance  of  all  former  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, is  undoubtedly  to  ht  received  or  rejected  in  view  of 
facts.  The  only  question  in  this  case,  as  in  others,  is, 
What  is  truth  '?    And  how  are  we  to  arrive  at  the  truth  1 

If  the  facts  which  have  been  referred  to  be  not  enough 
to  enable  one  to  form  an  opinion,  there  are  others  of  a 
like  tendency,  and  in  a  less  uncertain  form.  A  powerful 
disease,  while  at  some  times  it  prostrates  the  mind,  at 
others  imparts  to  it  a  more  intense  action.  The  follow- 
ing passage  from  a  recent  work  (although  the  cause  of 
the  mental  excitement,  in  the  instance  mentioned  in  it,  is 
not  stated)  may  properly  be  appealed  to  in  this  connex- 
ion.— "  Past  feelings,  even  should  they  be  those  of  our 
earliest  moments  of  infancy,  never  cease  to  be  under  the 
influence  of  the  law  of  association,  and  they  are  constant- 
ly liable  to  be  renovated,  even  to  the  latest  period  of  life, 
although  they  may  be  in  so  faint  a  state  as  not  to  be  tlie 
object  of  consciousness. 

"  It  is  evident,  then,  that  a  cause  of  mental  excitement 
may  so  act  upon  a  sequence  of  extremely  faint  feelings, 
as  to  render  ideas,  of  which  the  mind  had  long  been  pre- 
viously unconscious,  vivid  objects  of  conscioiu^^ness.  Thus 
it  is  recorded  of  a  female  in  France,  that  while  she  was 
subjected  to  such  an  influence,  the  memory  of  the  Armor- 
ican  language,  which  she  had  lost  since  she  w^as  a  child, 
suddenly  returned."* 

^   170.   Effect  on  the  memory  of  a  severe  attack  of  fevtr 

We  may  add  here  the  following  account  of  the  menta! 
*  Hibbert's  Philosophy  of  Appari  ions,  part  i"  ,  chapter  v. 


DUKATION    OF    MEMORY  iSf* 

affections  of  an  intelligent  American  traveller  He  waa 
travelling  in  the  State  of  Illinois,  and  suffered  the  com- 
mon lot  of  visitants  from  other  climates,  in  being  taken 
dov^^n  with  a  bilious  fever.--'- As  very  few  live,"  he  re- 
marks, "  to  recoid  the  issue  of  a  sickness  like  mine,  and 
^s  you  have  requested  me,  and  as  I  have  promised  to  be 
pa'.-licular,  I  will  relate  some  of  the  circumstances  of  this 
disease.  And  it  is  in  my  view  desirable,  in  the  bitter  ag- 
ony of  such  diseases,  that  more  of  the  symptoms,  sensa- 
tions, and  sulferings  should  be  recorded  than  have  been ; 
and  that  others  in  similar  predicaments  may  know  that 
some  before  them  have  had  sufferings  like  theirs,  and  havp 
survived  them. 

"  I  had  had  a  fever  befo'-e,  and  had  risen  and  been  dress- 
ed every  day.  But  in  this,  with  the  first  day,  I  was  pros- 
trated to  infantile  weakness,  and  felt  with  its  first  attack 
that  it  was  a  thing  very  different  from  what  I  had  yet 
experienced.  Paroxysms  of  derangement  occurred  the 
third  day,  and  this  was  to  me  a  new  state  of  mind.  That 
state  of  disease  in  which  partial  derangement  is  mixed 
with  a  consciousness  generally  sound,  and  a  sensibility 
preternaturally  excited,  I  should  suppose  the  most  dis- 
tressing of  all  its  forms.  At  the  same  time  that  I  was 
unable  to  recognise  my  friends,  I  was  informed  that  my 
memory  was  more  than  ordinarily  exact  and  retentive, 
and  that  I  repeated  whole  passages  in  the  different  lan- 
guages, ivhich  I  knew  vnth  entire  accuracy.  1  recited, 
vnthoxd  losing  or  misplacing  a  word,  a  passage  of  poetry, 
which  I  could  not  so  repeat  after  I  had  recovered  my 
health, '  &c.* 

^  171.  Approval  and  illustrations  of  these  views  from  Coleridge. 

An  opinion  favourable  to  the  doctrine  of  the  durabih- 
ly  of  memory,  and  the  ultimate  restoration  of  thought 
and  feeling,  is  ex-pressed  in  the  Biographia  Literaria  of 
Coleridge,  in  an  article  on  the  Laws  of  association.  In 
confirmation  of  it,  the  writer  introduces  a  statement  of 
certain  facts  which  became  known  to  him  in  a  tour  in 
Germany  in  1798,  to  the  following  effect. 

In  a  Catholic  town  of  Germany,  a  young  woman  of 
♦  Flint's  Recollections  of  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  letter  xi? 

Q2 


18G  UURATRN     )F    MF.MORV 

fbui  or  five-and-(  vventy,  who  could  neither  read  nor  write 
was  seized  with  a  nervous  fever,  during  which  she  was 
ince&santly  talking  Greek,  Latin,  and  Hebrew,  with  much 
pomp  and  distinctness  ol'  enmiciation.  The  case  atti'act- 
ed  much  attention,  and  many  sentences  which  she  utter- 
ftd,  beincr  taken  down  by  some  learned  persons  present, 
.^^ere  found  to  be  coherent  and  intelligible,  ea^h  for  itself, 
but  with  little  or  no  connexion  with  each  other.  Of  the 
Hebrew  only  a  small  portion  could  be  traced  to  the  Bible  ; 
the  remainder  was  that  form  of  Hebrew  which  is  usually 
called  Rabbinic.  Ignorant,  and  simple,  and  harmless,  as 
this  young  woman  was  known  to  be,  no  one  suspected 
any  deception ;  and  no  explanation  could  for  a  long  time 
be  given,  although  inquiries  were  made  for  that  purpose 
in  different  families  where  she  had  resided  as  a  servant. 

Through  the  zea',  however,  and  philosophical  spirit  of 
a  young  physician,  all  the  necessary  information  was  in  the 
end  obtained  The  woman  was  of  poor  parents,  and  at 
nine  years  of  age  had  been  kindly  taken  to  be  brought 
up  by  an  old  Protestant  minister,  who  lived  at  some  dis* 
tance.  He  was  a  very  learned  man  ;  being  not  only  a 
great  H-sbraist,  but  acquainted  also  with  Rabbinical  wri- 
tings, *he  Greek  and  Latin  Fathers,  &c.  The  passages 
whirh  had  been  taken  down  in  the  delirious  ravings  of 
th",  young  woman,  were  found  by  the  physician  precise- 
/y  to  agree  with  passages  in  some  books  in  those  lan- 
guages which  had  formerly  belonged  to  him.  But  these 
facts  were  not  a  full  explanation  of  the  case.  It  appear- 
ed, on  further  inquiry,  that  the  patriarchal  Protestant  had 
been  in  the  habit  for  many  years  of  walking  up  and  down 
H  passage  of  his  house,  into  which  the  kitchen  door  open- 
ed, and  to  read  to  himself  with  a  loud  voice  out  of  his  fa 
voiarite  books.  This  attracted  the  notice  of  the  poor  and 
ignorant  domestic  whom  he  had  taken  into  his  family ; 
ihe  passages  made  an  impression  on  her  memory ;  and  al- 
tiiough  probably  for  a  long  time  beyond  the  reach  of  her 
recollection  when  in  health,  they  were  at  last  -s^vidly  re- 
stored, and  were  uttered  in  the  way  above  mentioned,  in 
•onsequence  of  the  feverish  state  of  the  physical  system, 
articularly  of  the  brain. 

From  this  instance,  and   fron?   several  fiihers  of  thf 


I  UHATION    OF    MEMORV.  187 

B'dme  kind,  wliich  Mr.  Coleridge  asserts  can  be  brought 

up,  he  is  inclined  to  educe  the  followino;  positions  or  in- 
ferences.— (1.)  Our  thoughts  may,  for  an  indefinite  time, 
exist  in  the  same  order  in  which  they  existed  originally, 
and  in  a  latent  or  imperceptible  state. — (2.)  As  a  fever- 
ish state  of  the  brain  (and,  of  course,  any  other  peculiari- 
.y  in  the  bodily  condition)  cannot  create  thought  itself, 
nor  make  any  approximation  to  it,  but  can  only  operate 
as  an  excitement  or  quickener  to  the  intellectual  princi 
pie,  it  is  therefore  probable,  that  all  thoughts  are,  in 
themselves,  imperishable. — (3.)  In  order  greatly  to  in- 
crease the  power  of  the  intellect,  he  supposes  it  would 
require  only  a  different  organization  of  its  material  ac- 
companiment.— (4.)  And,  therefore,  he  concludes  the 
book  of  final  judgment,  which  the  Scriptures  inform  us 
will  at  the  last  day  be  }>resented  before  the  individuals  of 
the  human  race,  may  be  no  other  than  the  investment  ol 
the  soul  with  a  celestial  instead  of  a  terrestrial  body  ;  and 
that  this  may  be  sufficient  to  restore  the  perfect  record  of 
the  multitude  of  its  past  experiences.  He  supposes  it 
may  be  altogether  consistent  with  the  nature  of  a  living 
spirit,  that  Heaven  and  earth  should  sooner  pass  away, 
than  that  a  single  act  or  thought  should  be  loosened  and 
effectually  struck  off  from  the  great  chain  of  its  opera- 
tions.— In  givino-  these  conclusions,  the  exact  language  of 
the  writer  has  not  been  followed,  but  the  statement  made 
will  be  found  to  give  what  clearly  seems  to  have  been 
his  meaning. 

i)   172.  Applicalion  of  the  principles  of  this  chapter  to  education. 

Whether  the  considerations  which  have  been  brought 
forward  lead  satisfactorily  to  the  conclusion  of  the  dura- 
tion of  memory,  and  of  the  possible  restoration  of  all 
mental  exercises,  must  of  course  be  submitted  to  each 
one's  private  judgment.  But  on  the  supposition  that  they 
do,  it  must  occur  to  every  one,  that  certain  practical 
applications  closely  connect  themselves  vAxh  this  subject 
—The  principle  in  question  has,  among  other  things,  2 
bearing  on  the  education  of  the  young ;  fuTiishing  a  nevj 
reason  for  the  utmost  circumspection  in  conducting  it 
The  lenn  education,  in  its  application  to  the  human  mind 


188  DURATION    OF    Mfc;MOR'\ 

is  veiy  extensive ;  it  includes  the  example  &nd  a(h  i  -.e  o/ 

parents,  and  the  influence  of  associates,  as  well  as  inor«; 
direct  and  formal  instruction.  Now  if  the  docti  ine  unde/ 
consideration  be  true,  it  follows  that  a  single  reniaik  of  r 
profligate  and  injurious  tendency,  made  by  a  parent  or 
some  other  person  in  the  presence  of  a  child,  though  for- 
gotten and  neglected  at  the  time,  may  be  suddenly  ancfi 
vividly  recalled  some  twenty,  thirty,  or  even  forty  years 
^ter.  It  may  be  restored  to  the  mind  by  a  multitude  of 
unforeseen  circumstances,  and  even  those  of  the  most  tri 
fling  kind ;  and  even  at  the  late  period  when  the  voice 
Jhat  uttered  it  is  silent  in  the  grave,  may  exert  a  most 
pernicious  influence.  It  may  lead  to  unkindness  ;  it  may 
be  seized  and  cherished  as  a  justification  of  secret  moral 
an4  religious  delinquencies;  it  may  prompt  to  a  violation 
of  public  laws ;  and  in  a  multitude  o'  vvays  conduct  to 
sin,  to  ignominy,  and  wretchedness.  Great  care,  there- 
fore, ought  to  be  taken,  not  to  utter  unadvised,  false,  and 
evil  sentiments  in  the  hearing  of  the  young,  in  the  vain 
expectation  that  they  wall  do  no  hurt,  because  they  will 
be  speedily  and  irrecoverably  lost. 

And,  for  the  same  reason,  great  care  and  pains  should 
be  taken  to  introduce  truth  into  the  mind,  and  all  correct 
moral  and  religious  principles.  Suitably  impress  on  the 
mind  of  a  child  the  existence  of  a  God,  and  his  parental 
authority  ;  teach  the  pure  and  benevolent  outlines  of  the 
Redeemer's  character,  and  the  great  truths  and  hopes  of 
the  Gospel ;  and  these  instructions  form  essential  links  in 
the  grand  chain  of  memory,  which  no  change  of  circum- 
stances, nor  lapse  of  time,  nor  combination  of  power,  can 
ever  wholly  strike  out.  They  have  their  place  assigned 
them ;  and  though  they  may  be  concealed,  they  cannot 
be  obliterated.  They  may  perhaps  cease  to  exercise  their 
Appropriate  influence,  and  not  be  recalled  for  years ;  the 
pressure  of  the  business  and  of  the  cares  of  life  may  have 
driven  them  out  from  every  prominent  position,  and  bu- 
ried them  for  a  time.  But  the  period  of  their  resurrec- 
tion is  always  at  hand,  although  it  may  not  be  possible 
for  the  limited  knowledge  of  man  to  detect  the  signs  of 
it.  Perhaps,  in  the  hour  of  temptation  to  crime,  thej 
come  forth  like  forms  and  voices  from  the  dead,  and  with 


.JURATION    OF    MEMOKY.  i8S 

0/  /re  il.tn  their  original  freshness  and  power  ;  perhaps,  in 
file  hour  of  misfortune,  in  the  prison-house,  or  in  the  land 
of  banishment,  they  pay  their  visitations,  and  impart  a 
consolation  which  nothing  else  could  have  supplied ;  they 
come  with  the  angel  tones  of  parental  reproof  and  love, 
and  preserve  the  purity  and  check  the  despondency  of 
the  soul. 

i  173.  Connexion  of  this  doctrine  with  the  final  judgment  and  a  future  life 

There  remains  one  remark  more,  of  a  practical  naturej 
to  be  made. — The  views  which  have  been  proposed  in 
respect  to  the  ultimate  restoration  of  all  mental  experien- 
ces, may  be  regarded  as  in  accordance  with  the  Divine 
Word.  It  may  be  safely  affirmed,  that  no  mental  princi- 
ple which,  on  a  fair  interpretation,  is  laid  down  in  that 
sacred  book,  will  be  found  to  be  at  variance  with  the 
common  experience  of  mankind.  The  doctrine  of  the 
Bible,  in  respect  to  a  future  judgment,  may  well  be  sup- 
posed to  involve  consideradons  relative  to  man's  intellect 
aal  and  moral  condition.  In  various  passages  they  ex- 
plicitly teach  that  the  Saviour  in  the  last  day  shall  judge 
the  world,  and  that  all  shall  be  judged  according  to  the 
deeds  done  in  the  body,  whether  they  be  good  or  wheth- 
er they  be  evil.  But  an  objection  has  sometimes  been 
raised  of  this  sort,  that  we  can  never  feel  the  justice  of 
that  decision  without  a  knowledge  of  our  whole  past  life 
on  which  it  is  founded,  and  that  this  is  impossible.  It 
was  probably  this  objection  that  Mr.  Coleridge  had  in 
view,  when  he  proposed  the  opinion,  that  the  clothing  of 
the  soul  Avith  a  celestial  instead  of  a  terrestrial  body, 
would  be  sufficient  to  restore  the  perfect  record  of  its 
past  experiences. 

In  reference  to  this  objection  to  the  scriptural  doctrine 
of  a  final  judgment,  the  remaik  naturally  presents  itself, 
that  it  seems  to  derive  its  plausibility  chiefly  from  an  im- 
perfect view  of  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind.  It 
is  thought  that  we  cannot  be  conscious  of  our  whole  past 
life,  because  it  is  utterly  forgotten,  and  is,  therefore,  whol- 
ly irrecoverable.  But  the  truth  seems  to  be,  that  nothing 
is  wholly  forgotten  ;  the  probability  that  we  shall  be  able 
^o  recall  tnir  past  thoughts  may  be  greatly  diminished 


190  REASONfNG. 

but  it  aoes  not  become  wholly  extinct  The  power  0/ 
reminiscence  slumbers,  but  does  not  die.  At  the  Judg 
ment-day,  we  are  entirely  at  liberty  to  suppose,  iVom  whal 
we  know  of  the  mind,  that  it  will  awake,  tnat  it  will 
summon  up  thought  and  feeling  from  its  hidden  recessts 
and  will  clearly  present  before  u-s  the  perfect  form  and 
representation  of  the  past. 

"  Each  fainier  trace  that  memory  holds 
So  darkly  of  departed  years, 
In  one  broad  glance  the  soul  beholds, 
And  all  that  was,  at  once  appears." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

REASONING  * 

()  iV4.   Reasoning  a  source  jI  ,deas  and  knowledge. 

Leaving  the  consideration  of  the  memory,  we  are  nex( 
t?  examine  the  power  of  Reasoning ;  a  subject  of  inquiry 
abundantly  interesting  in  itself,  and  also  in  consequence 
of  its  being  one  of  the  leading  and  fruiful  sources  of  In- 
ternal knowledge.  For  our  knowledge  of  the  opera- 
tions of  this  faculty,  we  are  indebted,  as  was  seen  in  a 
former  chapter,  to  Consciousness,  which  giv^es  us  our  di- 
rect knowledge  of  all  other  mental  acts.  But  it  will  be 
remarked,  that  Reasoning  is  not  identical  with,  or  involv- 
ed in.  Consciousness.  If  consciousness  give  us  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  act  of  reasoning,  the  reasoning  power,  opera 
ting  within  its  own  limits  and  in  its  own  right,  gives  us  s 
knowledge  of  other  things.  It  is  a  source  of  perceptions 
and  knowledge  which  we  probably  could  not  possess  in 
any  other  way. 

Without  the  aid  of  Original  Suggestion,  it  docs  not  ap- 
pear how  we  could  have  a  knowledge  of  our  existence ; 
without  Consciousness,  we  should  not  have  a  knowledge 
of  our  mental  operations;  without  Relative  Suggestion 
or  Judgment,  which  is  also  a  distinct  source  of  knowl- 
edge, there  would  be  no  Reasoning  ;  and,  unassisted  b) 
Reasoning,  we  could  have  no  knowleda^e  of  the  velatiois 


REASONING. 


191 


of  vhose  things  which  cannot  be  tompared  without  the 
aid  of  intermediate  propositions.  The  reasoning  power 
therefore,  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  new  and  distinct  fountain 
of  thought,  which,  as  compared  with  the  other  sources  of 
knowledge  just  mentioned,  opens  itself  still  further  in  the 
recesses  q{  the  Internal  Intellect ;  and  as  it  is  later  in 
its  developement,  so  it  comes  forth  witli  proportionally 
greater  efficiency.  Accordingly,  Degerando,  in  his  trea- 
tise entitled  De  la  Generation  des  Connoissances,  expressl) 
and  very  justly  remarks,  after  having  spoken  of  judgment 
or  Relative  Suggestion  as  a  distinct  source  of  knowledge , 
"The  Reasoning  faculty  also  serves  to  enrich  us  with 
ideas ;  for  there  are  many  relations  so  complicated  or  re- 
mote, that  one  act  of  judgment  is  not  sufficient  to  discov 
er  them.  A  series  of  judgments  or  process  of  reasoning 
is  therefore  necessary." — But  we  would  not  be  understood 
to  limit  the  results  of  reasoning,  considered  as  a  distinct 
source  of  knowledge,  to  a  few  simple  conceptions,  such  as 
the  discovery,  in  a  given  case,  of  the  mere  relation  of 
ao;reement  or  disagreement.  It  sustains  the  higher  offic*: 
of  bringing  to  light  the  gi  °at  principles  and  hidden  truths 
of  nature ;  it  reveals  to  the  inquisitive  and  dehghted  mind 
a  multitude  of  fruitful  and  comprehensive  views,  which 
could  not  otherwise  be  obtained ;  and  invests  men,  and 
nature,  and  events  with  a  new  character. 

I)  175.   Definition  of  reasoning,  and  of  propositions. 

Reasoning  may  be  defined  the  mental  process  or  oper- 
ation  whereby  we  deduce  conclusions  from  two  or  more 
propositions  premised. — A  train  of  reasoning  may  be  re- 
garded, therefore,  as  a  whole  ;  and,  as  such,  it  is  made  up 
of  separate  and  subordinate  parts.  These  ekmentary 
jjarts  are  usually  termed  propositions  ;  and  before  we  can 
proceed  with  advantage  in  the  further  consideration  oi 
reasoning,  it  is  necessary  to  go  into  a  brief  explanation 
of  them. 

A  pPvOPOsiTioN  has  been  defined  to  be  a  verbal  repre- 
sentation of  some  perception,  act,  or  affection  of  the  mind 
— Accordingly,  when  we  speak  of  a  Proposition,  we  are 
usually  undei-stood  to  mean  some  men  al  perception  oi 
r-oinbination  of  perceptions,  exoressed  and  laid  out  bi  %p 


i92  KEASONIN6. 

US  in  words.  Although  such  seems  to  be  the  nrchnaij 
meaning  of  the  term,  we  may  admit  the  possibiHty  <>f  prop- 
ositions existing  wholly  in  the  mind,  withc^ut  being  ex- 
nressed  in  x'iords.  Mr.  Locke  expressly  speaks  of  mental 
propositions,  or  those  states  of  mind  where  two  or  more 
»deas  are  combined  together  previous  to  their  being  iin--^ 
bodied  and  set  forth  in  the  forms  of  language. 

The  parts  of  the  proposition  are,  (1.)  The  subject,  o* 
?hat  concerning  which  something  is  either  asserted  or  dc" 
aiied,  commanded  or  inquired.  (2.)  The  predicate,  or 
that  which  is  asserted,  denied,  commanded,  or  inquired 
concerning  the  subject.  (3.)  The  copula,  by  w^hich  the 
two  other  parts  are  connected. — In  these  two  propositions, 
Caesar  was  brave. 
Men  are  fallible. 
Men  and  Ccscar  are  the  subjects ;  fallible  and  brave  are 
the  predicates ;  are  and  was  are  the  copulas. 

Propositions  have  been  divided,  (1.)  Into  simple,  or 
those  w^hose  subject  and  predicate  are  composed  of  single 
words,  as  in  this  : 

Benevolence  is  co*nmendable. 

(2.)   Into  COMPLEX,  or  those  where  the  subject  and 
predicate  consist  of  a  number  of  words,  as  in  this  : 
Faithfulness  in  religion  is  followed  by  peace  of  mind 

(3.)  Into  modal,  where  the  copula  is  qualified  by  somt 
word  or  words,  representing  the  manner  or  possibility  of 
the  agreement  or  discrepancy  between  the  subject  and 
predicate,  as  in  these : 

Men  of  learning  can  exert  an  influence ; 
Wars  may  sometimes  be  just. 

Propositions,  more  or  less  involved,  are  necessary  parts 
ill  every  process  of  reasoning.  They  may  be  compared 
to  the  separate  and  disjointed  blocks  of  marble  which  are 
destined  to  enter  into  the  formation  of  some  edifice ;  the 
completed  process  of  reasoning  is  the  edifice,  the  propo- 
rtions are  the  materials. 

^  176.   T'rocess  of  the  mind  in  all  cases  of  reasoning. 

Leaving  the  consideration  of  its  subordinate  paiis  o! 
elements,  we  are  further  to  consider  the  general  nature 
of  reasoning;  in  other  words,  we  are  to  examine  thi' 


RfcASONING.  193 

character  rf  tl.'e  com})lex  mental  piocess  involvevl  in  that 
term.  The  definition  given  cf  reasoning,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, was,  that  it  is  the  mental  process  by  which 
we  deduce  conclusions  from  two  or  more  propositions 
premised.  Hence  there  will  be  in  every  such  process  a 
iiuccession  of  propositions,  never  less  than  two,  and  often 
a  much  greater  number.  The  propositions  often  follow 
each  other  with  much  regularity;  and  hence  not  unfre- 
quently  we  consider  the  arrangement  of  them  as  entirely 
arbitrary.  This  is  a  mistaken  supposition.  It  is  true, 
wlien  a  number  of  ideas  or  propositions  are  presented 
nearly  at  the  same  time,  the  mind  puts  forth  a  volition, 
or  exercises  choice,  in  selecting  one  idea  or  proposition  in 
preference  to  another.  But  the  ideas  or  propositions  from 
w  hich  the  choice  is  made,  and  without  the  presence  of 
wnich  it  could  not  be  made,  are  not  brought  into  exitff- 
euce  by  a  direct  volition,  and,  therefore,  mere  arbitrary 
creations;  but  are  suggested  by  the  laws  of  association 

§  177.  Illustration  of  the  preceding  statement. 

As  an  illustration  of  what  has  been  said,  we  will  sup- 
pose an  argument  on  the  justice  and  expediency  of  capi- 
tal punishments  in  ordinary  cases.  The  disputant  first 
denies,  in  general  terms,  the  right  which  social  combina- 
tions have  assumed  of  capitally  punishing  offences  of  a 
slight  nature.  But,  before  considering  the  cases  he  has 
])articularly  in  view,  he  remarks  on  the  right  of  capital 
punishment  for  murder  ;  he  admits,  we  will  suppose,  that 
the  princi})le  of  self-defence  gives  such  a  right.  He  then 
tiikes  up  the  case  of  stealing,  and  contends  that  we  have 
no  right  to  punish  the  thief  with  death,  because  no  such 
right  is  given  by  the  laws  of  nature ;  for,  before  the  for- 
mation of  the  civil  compact,  the  institution  of  property,  as 
a  matter  of  civil  and  judicial  regulation,  was  not  known. 
He  then  considers  the  nature  of  civil  society,  and  con- 
tends that,  in  the  formation  of  the  social  compact,  no 
puch  extraordinary  power  as  that  of  putting  to  death  for 
stealing,  or  other  crimes  of  similar  aggravation,  could 
have  been  implied  in  that  compact,  because  it  never  was 
possessed  by  those  who  formed  it,  &c. 

Here  is  an  argument,  made  up  of  a  number  of  propo- 
U 


lJi4  REAXONINU 

sitions,  and  carried  on,  as  nui}'  be  suj)})Osed,  to  a  verj 
considerable  length.  And  in  this  argument,  as  in  aJj 
others,  every  proposition  is,  in  the  first  instance,  suggest- 
ed by  the  laws  of  association ;  it  is  not  at  all  a  matter  of 
arbitrary  volition.  The  disputant  first  states  the  inquij-y 
in  general  terras;  he  then  considers  the  particular  cise 
of  murder ;  the  crime  of  theft  is  next  considered ;  and 
this  is  examined,  first,  in  reference  to  natural  law,  and 
afterward  in  reference  to  civil  law. — And  this  consecu* 
tion  of  propositions  takes  place  in  essentially  the  same 
way  as  when  the  sight  of  a  stranger  in  the  crowd  suggests 
the  image  of  an  old  friend,  and  the  friend  suggests  the 
village  of  his  residence,  and  the  village  suggests  an  an- 
cient ruin  in  its  neighbourhood,  and  the  ruin  suggests 
warriors  and  battles  of  other  days. — It  is  true  that  other 
propositions  may  have  been  suggested  at  the  same  time, 
and  the  disputant  may  have  had  his  choice  between  them, 
but  this  w^as  all  the  direct  voluntary  power  which  he  pos- 
sessed. 

^  178.  Grounds  of  the  selection  of  propositions. 

A  number  of  propositions  are  presented  to  the  mind  by 
the  principles  of  association ;  the  person  who  carries  on 
the  process  of  reasoning  makes  his  selection  among  them. 
But  it  is  reasonable  to  inquire.  How  it  happens  that  there 
IS  such  a  suitableness  or  agreement  in  the  propositions,  as 
they  are  successively  adopted  into  the  train  of  reasoning  ] 
And  this  seems  to  be  no  other  than  to  inquire  into  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  the  choice  of  them  is  made,  or 
the  grounds  of  the  selection. 

Let  it  be  considered,  then,  that  in  all  arguments,  \\  hetli- 
er  moral  or  demonstrative,  there  is  some  general  subject 
Oil  '.vhich  the  evidence  is  made  to  bear ;  there  is  some 
point  in  particular  to  be  examined.  In  reference  to  these 
general  outlines  we  have  a  prevailing  and  permanent 
desire.  This  desire  is  not  only  a  great  help  in  giving 
qiickness  and  strength  to  the  laws  of  association,  but 
exercises  also  a  very  considerable  indirect  influence  in 
giving  an  appropriate  character  to  the  thoughts  whicli 
are  suggested  by  those  laws  Hence  the  great  body  oi 
tije  propositions  wdiich  aie  at  such  times  brcught  up,  wiJ.' 


REASONING.  195 

oe  luur:J  to  have  a  greater  or  less  r( ference  to  the  gen- 
eral subject.  These  are  all  very  rapidly  compared  by  the 
mind  with  those  outlines  in  regard  to  Avhich  its  feelings 
of  desire  are  exercised,  or  with  what  we  usually  terra  the 
'point  to  be  proved. — Here  the  mmd,  in  the  exercise  oi 
»hat  susceptibility  of  feelings  of  relation  which  we  have 
already  seen  it  to  possess,  immediately  discovers  the  suit- 
ableness or  want  of  suitableness,  the  agreement  or  want 
of  agreement,  of  the  propositions  presented  to  it,  to  the 
general  subject.  This  perception  of  agreement  or  disa- 
greement, which  is  one  of  those  relative  feelings  of  which 
the  mind  is,  from  its  very  nature,  held  lo  be  susceptible, 
exists  as  an  ultimate  fact  in  our  mental  constitution.  All 
that  can  profitably  be  said  in  relation  to  it,  is  the  mere 
statement  of  the  fact,  and  of  the  circumstances  undei 
which  it  is  found  to  exist. — Those  prepositions  which  are 
judged  by  the  mind,  in  the  exercise  of  that  capacity  which 
its  Creator  has  given  it,  to  possess  a  congruity  or  agree- 
ment with  the  general  subject  or  point  to  be  proved,  are 
permitted  by  it  to  enter  in,  as  continuous  parts  of  the  ar- 
giunent.  And  in  this  way  a  series  of  propositions  rises 
up,  all  having  reference  to  one  ultimate  purpose,  regular, 
appropriate,  and  in  their  issue  laying  the  foundation  of 
the  different  degrees  of  assent. — This  explanation  will 
apply  not  only  to  the  supposed  argument  in  the  last  sec- 
tion, which  is  an  instance  of  moral  reasoning,  but  will 
hold  good  essentially  of  all  other  instances,  of  whatever 
kind.  The  difference  in  the  various  kinds  of  reasoning 
consists  less  in  the  mental  process  than  in  the  nature  of 
the  subjects  compared  together,  and  in  the  conditions  at- 
tending them. 

^  179.   Reasoning  implies  the  existence  of  antecedent  or  assumed 
propositions. 

In  attempting  to  give  some  explanation  of  the  reason 
ing  power,  it  is  to  be  remarked  further,  that  reasoning 
both  in  its  inception  and  its  prosecution,  has  this  charac- 
teristic, that  it  necessarily  proceeds,  in  a  great  detrree, 
upon  assumptions.  As  every  deductive  process  implies  a 
comparison  of  propositions,  there  must,  of  course,  be  some 
propositions  given,  by  thp  lid  of  which  Hie  conipai'ison  is 


iyt>  KEASONING 

prosecuted.  There  must  be  something  ass  jraed  as  knowi , 
by  means  of  which  to  find  out  what  is  unknown.  Accora- 
ingly,  assumed  propositions  (either  those  which  are  known 
to  be  true,  or,  for  the  purposes  of  argument,  are  regarded 
as  such)  are  always  found  at  the  commencement  of  the 
series;  and  they  are  also  introduced  frequently  in  its 
progress,  particularly  in  Moral  reasoning  But  the  prop- 
ositions which  are  assumed  are  not  always  expressed ; 
especially  those  which,  from  the  circumstance  of  their 
being  representative  of  elementary  convictions  of  the  un- 
derstanding, are  denominated  primary  truths. 

"In  every  process  of  reasoning,"  says  Abercrombie, 
''  we  proceed  by  founding  one  step  upon  another  which 
has  gone  before  it ;  and  when  we  trace  such  a  process 
backward,  we  must  arrive  at  certain  truths  which  are  rec- 
ognised as  fundamental,  iequiring  no  proof  and  admit- 
ting of  none." 

•5  I'JO.   Further  consiJcUtions  on  this  subject. 

But  when  we  say  that  reasoning  proceeds  upon  as 
sumptiojiSy  it  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  it  pro- 
ceecls  upon  propositions  which  Kte  unknown  or  doubtful. 
The  propositions  which  are  referred  to,  are  assumed  in 
reference  to  the  reasoning  power,  and  not  in  reference 
to  other  sources  of  knowled";e  which  the  understanding: 
possesses  besides  reasonmg.  Whatever  thmgs  are  known 
by  Original  Suggestion,  whatever  are  known  by  Con- 
sciousness, or  by  the  direct  communication  of  the  Senses, 
or  by  undoubted  Memory  or  Testimony,  as  they  cannot 
be  made  clearer  by  reasoning,  but  fully  command  our  be- 
ief  of  themselves,  are  at  once  adopted  by  reasoning  into 
its  own  processes,  and  employed  as  helps  in  eliciting  the 
remote  and  unperceived  truths  which  it  is  in  search  o£ 
But,  as  has  been  intimated,  this  adoption  is  not  always  a 
formal  and  acknowledged  one,  but  often  silently  and  by 
implication.  No  one  would  think  of  formally  and  repeat- 
edly enunciating,  as  he  advances  in  an  argument,  the  truth 
of  hie  own  existence  or  of  his  personal  identity ;  and  not 
much  more  would  he  think  of  enunciating  that  every  effect 
has  its  cause,  or  that  nature  is  uniform  in  her  operations,  or 
tliat  a  V  ombination  of  mpans  conspiring  to  a  particular  end 


REASONING.  19? 

indi<;ate>-:  intelligence ;  truths  which  are  so  essential  and 
familiar  to  the  human  intellect,  that  we  daily  bast  the 
most  important  conclusions  upon  them,  while,  at  the  same 
lime,  we  scarcely  think  of  their  existence. 

§  181.  Of  differences  in  the  power  of  reasoning. 

The  faculty  of  reasoning  exists  in  different  individuals 
in  very  different  degrees.  There  is  the  same  diversity 
here  which  is  found  to  exist  in  respect  to  every  other  men- 
tal susceptibility  and  mental  process.  In  some  persons  il 
Ls  not  even  powerful  enough  to  meet  the  ordinary  exigen- 
cies of  life,  and  hardly  rescues  its  possessor  from  the 
imputation  of  idiocy ;  in  others,  it  elevates  human  natm-e 
and  bestows  extraordinary  grasp  and  penetration.  And 
between  the  extremes  of  extraordinary  expansion  and 
marked  imbecility,  there  are  multitudes  of  distinct  grades, 
almost  every  possible  variety. 

This  difference  depends  on  various  causes. — ( 1.)  It  will 
depend,  in  the  first  place,  on  the  amount  of  knowledge 
which  the  reasoner  possesses.  No  man  can  permanently 
sistain  the  reputation  of  great  ability  in  argument  with- 
o  it  having  previously  secured  a  large  fund  of  knowledge  as 
it;  basis.  And  we  may  add,  that  no  man  can  reason  weU 
on  any  given  subject,  unless  he  has  especially  prepared 
himself  in  reference  to  that  subject.  All  reasoning  im- 
plies a  comparison  of  ideas  ;  or,  more  properly,  a  compar. 
ison  of  propositions, '  or  of  facts  stated  in  propositions. 
Of  course,  where  there  is  no  knowledge  on  any  given 
subject,  where  there  is  no  accumulation  of  facts,  there  can 
be  no  possibility  of  reasoning ;  and  where  the  knowledge 
is  much  limited,  the  plausibility  and  power  of  the  argu- 
ment will  be  proportionally  diminished. 

That  many  persons  speak  on  subjects  which  are  propo- 
sed to  them  without  having  made  any  preparation,  can- 
not be  denied  ;  but  there  is  a  vast  difference  between 
noisy,  incoherent  declamation  and  a  well-wrought  argu- 
ment, made  up  of  suitable  propositions,  following  each 
other  with  a  direct  and  satisfactory  reference  to  the  con« 
elusion.  In  every  case  of  reasoning,  the  mind  passes  sue 
cesslvely  along  the  various  topics  Involved  in  the  argu« 
ment ;  and,  in  so  doing,  is  governed  bv  the  principle.s  of 
R  2 


198  ri;asontog 

associ:i!;ioii^  as  we  Ijave  already  had  occaskfi  to  nohce 
Bui  wliat  opportunity  can  there  possibly  be  for  th(^,  oper- 
ation of  these  principles,  when  the  mind  is  called  to  fasten 
itself  upon  a  subject,  and  to  decide  upon  that  subject, 
without  any  knowledge  of  those  circumstances  wdiich 
may  be  directly  embraced  in  it,  or  of  its  relations  and 
tendencies  't 

(2.)  The  power  of  reasoning  wall  depend,  in  the  sec- 
;)r:d  place,  on  the  powder  of  attention  and  memory.  There 
are  some  persons  who  seem  to  have  no  command  of  the 
ATTENTION.  Everything  interests  them  slightly,  and  no- 
thing in  a  high  degree.  They  are  animated  by  no  strong 
feeling  ;  and  enter  into  no  subject  requiring  long-continu- 
ad  and  abstract  investigation  with  a  suitable  intensity  of 
ardour.  A  defective  remembrance  of  the  numerous  facUi 
and  propositions  which  come  under  review  is  the  natural 
consequence  of  this.  And  this  necessarily  implies  a  per- 
plexed and  diminished  power  of  ratiocination. 

(3.)  A  third  ground  of  difference  is  diversity  in  the 
susceptibility  of  feeling  relations.  The  remark  has  alrea- 
dy been  made,  (§  138,)  that  facts  may  be  accumulated 
having  close  and  decisive  relations  to  the  points  to  be 
proved,  but  that  they  can  never  be  so  bound  together  as 
to  result  in  any  conclusion,  without  a  })erception  or  feeling 
of  those  relations.  But  it  is  well  known,  whatever  it  may 
be  owing  to,  that  the  relations  of  objects  are  much  more 
readily  and  clearly  perceived  by  some  than  by  others. 
As,  therefore,  every  train  of  reasoning  implies  a  succession 
or  series  of  relative  perceptions,  a  defect  in  the  power  of 
relative  suggestion  necessarily  implies  a  defect  in  the 
reasoning  power.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  a  greav 
.■juickness  and  clearness  in  the  perception  of  relations  is 
lecessarilj'  attended  (other  things  being  equal)  with  aji 
tugmented  efficiency  of  reasoning. 

^  183.   Of  habits  of  reasoning. 

But  whatever  maj  be  the  mental  traits  that  render,  u 
'^--rfrticular  cases,  the  reasoning  power  more  or  less  effi- 
cient, its  efficacy  will  undoubtedly  depend,  in  a  great  de^ 
giee,  on  Habit. — The  effect  of  frequent  practice,  resultirg 
in  MhsLi  is  termed  a  habit,  is  often  witnessed  in  thoso  wfee 


REASONING  1^9 

Tollow  ai*y  mechanic  calling,  where  we  finil  that  wliat 
was  once  done  with  difficulty  comes  in  time  to  be  done 
with  great  ease  and  readiness.  The  muscles  of  such  per- 
sons seem  to  move  with  a  kind  of  instinctive  facility  and 
accuracy  in  the  performance  of  those  worlds  to  which  they 
have  been  for  a  long  time  addicted. 

There  is  a  similar  effect  of  frequent  pvactice  in  the  in- 
crease of  quickness  and  facility  in  our  mental  operations ; 
and  certainly  as  much  so  in  those  which  are  implied  in 
reasoning  as  in  any  others.  If,  for  instance,  a  person  has 
never  been  in  the  habit  of  going  through  geometrical 
demonstrations,  he  finds  his  mind  very  slowly  and  with  dif- 
ficulty advancing  from  one  step  to  another ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  person  who  has  so  often  practised  this  spe- 
cies of  argumentation  as  to  have  formed  a  habit,  advan- 
ces forward  from  one  part  of  the  train  of  reasoning  to 
another  with  great  rapidity  and  delight.  And  the  result 
is  tl  2  same  in  any  process  of  moral  reasoning.  In  the 
prost  cution  of  any  argument  of  a  moral  nature,  there  is 
necessarily  a  mental  perception  of  the  congruity  of  its 
several  parts,  or  of  the  agreement  of  the  succeeding 
proposition  with  that  which  went  before.  The  degree  of 
readiness  in  bringing  together  propositions,  and  in  putting 
forth  such  perceptions,  will  greatly  depend  on  the  degree 
of  practice. 

^  183.  Of  reasoning  in  connexion  with  language  or  expression. 

Language  is  the  great  instrument  of  reasoning.  There 
may  indeed  be  a  deductive  process  which  is  purely  men- 
tal ;  but,  in  point  of  fact,  this  is  seldom  the  case.  In  the 
use  of  language,  it  is  worthy  of  notice,  that  there  is  often 
a  want  of  correspondence  between  the  purely  mental  pro- 
cess in  reasonir  g  and  the  outward  verbal  expression  of  it. 
VVTien  persons  are  called  upon  to  state  their  argimients 
suddenly  and  m  public  debate,  they  often  commit  errors 
which  are  at  variance  with  the  prevalent  opinion  of  theif 
good  sense  and  mental  ability.  This  is  particularly  true 
of  men  who  are  chiefly  engaged  in  the  ordinaiy  business 
of  life,  or  are  in  any  situation  where  there  is  a  constant 
call  for  action.  The  conclusions  at  which  such  persons 
arrivi^  may  be  supposed  to  be  generally  correct,  but  they 


200  reasonimj. 

frequently  find  themselves  unable  to  state  clearly  and  co^. 
vectiv  to  others  the  process  of  reasoning  by  which  thev 
arrived  at  them. — Oliver  Cromwell,  the  famous  English 
Protector,  is  said  to  have  been  a  person  to  whom  this 
statement  would  well  apply.  The  complicated  incidents 
of  his  life,  and  the  perplexities  of  his  situation,  and  hLS 
great  success,  sufficiently  evince  that  he  possessed  a  clear 
iii&ight  into  events,  and  was  in  no  respect  deficient  in  un- 
d.s.^tanding;  but  when  he  attempted  to  express  his  opin- 
ions in  the  presence  of  others,  and  to  explain  himself  on 
questions  of  policy,  he  was  confused  and  obscure  His 
mind  leadily  insinuated  itself  into  the  intricacies  of  a 
subjoct;  and  while  he  could  assert  with  confidence  that  he 
had  arrived  at  a  satisfactory  conclusion,  he  could  not  so 
readily  describe  either  the  direction  he  had  taken,  or  the 
involutions  of  the  journey. — "All  accounts,"  says  Mr 
Hume,"  agree  in  ascribing  to  Cromwell  a  tiresome,  dai'k, 
unintelligible  elocution,  even  when  he  had  no  intention  to 
disguise  his  meaning ;  yet  no  man's  actions  w'ere  ever,  in 
such  a  variety  of  difficult  cases,  more  decisive  and  judi- 
cious." 

^  184.  Illustration  uf  the  foregoing  section. 

Such  instances  are  not  unfrequent.  Mr.  Stewart  some- 
where mentions  the  case  of  an  English  oflSccr,  a  friend  of 
Lord  Mansfield,  who  had  been  appointed  to  the  govern- 
ment of  Jamaica.  The  officer  expressed  some  doubts  of 
his  competency  to  preside  in  the  court  of  chancery. 
Mansfield  assured  him  that  he  would  not  find  the  difficul- 
ty so  great  as  he  imagined. — "  Trust,"  said  he,  "  to  your 
own  good  sense  in  forming  your  opinions,  but  bewai'e  of 
stating  the  grounds  of  your  judgments.  The  judgments 
will  probably  be  right  j  the  arguments  will  infallibly  be 
"W  rong." 

The  perplexity,  which  is  so  often  experienced  by  men 
engaged  in  active  life,  in  giving  a  prompt  and  correct  ver 
bal  expression  to  the  internal  trains  of  thought,  is  proba- 
bly owing  in  part  to  a  want  of  practice  of  that  kind,  and 
in  part  to  certain  mental  habits,  which  they  have  beea 
led,  from  their  situation,  to  form  and  strengthen  In  « 
tkiousand  emergencies  they  have  been  obliged  to  act  with 


T)EMONSTUATI\  E    REASOT.INO  20  i 

Ouicl.Ties>5,  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  caulioi; ;  in  other 
words,  to  examine  subjects,  and  to  do  it  \\ith  expedition, 
in  dn3  way  tliey  have  acquired  exceeding  le^diness  in  all 
their  mental  acts.  The  consequence  of  tliis  is,  that  the 
numerous  minute  circumstances,  involved  more  or  less  in 
all  subjects  of  difficult  inquuy,  are  passed  in  review  with 
Kuch  rapidity,  and  are  made  in  so  very  small  a  degree  the 
objects  of  separate  attention,  that  they  vanish  and  are  for- 
gotten. Hence  these  persons,  although  the  conclusion  to 
which  they  have  come  be  satisfactory,  arc  unable  to  state 
to  others  all  the  subordinate  steps  in  the  argimient. 
Everything  has  once  been  distinctly  and  fairly  before 
their  own  minds,  although  with  that  great  rapidity  which 
is  always  implied  'u  a  habit  ;  but  their  argument,  as  sta- 
ted in  words,  owing  to  their  inability  to  arrest  and  imbody 
all  the  evanescent  processes  of  thought,  appears  to  others 
defective  and  confused. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DEMONSTRATIVE    REASONING. 
()  185.  Of  the  subjects  of  demonstrative  reasoning. 

In  the  remarks  which  have  hitherto  been  made,  tlie 
gubject  of  reasoning  has  been  taken  up  in  the  most  gen- 
eral point  of  view.  The  considerations  that  have  been 
proposed  are  applicable,  in  the  main,  to  reasoning  in  al\ 
Its  forms.  But  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  possess  a  more 
full  and  satisfactory  conception  of  this  subject,  to  exian* 
ine  it  under  the  two  prominent  heads  of  Moral  and  De- 
cionstrat  ve. 

There  !ire  various  particulars  in  which  moral  and  de- 
monstrative reasoning  differ  from  each  other  j  the  consid- 
eration of  which  will  suggest  more  fully  their  distinctive 
nature.  Among  other  things,  demonstrative  reasoninsj 
differs  from  any  other  species  of  reasoning  in  the  subjects 
about  which  it  is  employed.  The  subjects  are  abstract 
ideas,  and  the  necessary  relations  among  them.     TIitso 


202  PEMUNSTRATIVE    REASONING 

ideas  oi  l!i;uglits  are  called  abstract  which  are  icpresent* 
ative  oi'  such  qualities  and  properties  in  objects  as  can 
be  distinctly  examined  by  the  mind  separate  from  other 
qualities  and  properties  \\ath  which  they  are  commonly 
united.  And  there  may  be  reckoned,  as  coming  within 
this  class  of  subjects,  the  properties  of  numbers  and  of  geo- 
metrical ligures  ;  also  extension,  duration,  weight,  veloci- 
\j,  forces,  &c.,  so  far  as  they  are  susceptible  of  being  accu- 
rately expressed  by  numbers  or  other  mathematical  signs. 
But  the  subjects  of  moral  reasoning,  upon  which  we  arc 
to  remark  hereafter  more  particularly,  are  matters  of  fact, 
including  their  connexion  with  other  facts,  whether  con- 
stant or  variable,  and  all  attendant  circumstances. — That 
die  exterior  angle  of  a  triangle  is  equal  to  both  the  inte- 
rior and  opposite  angles,  is  a  truth  which  comes  within 
the  province  of  demonstration.  That  Homer  was  the  au- 
thor of  the  Iliad,  that  Xerxes  invaded  Greece,  &c.,  are 
mquiries  belonging  to  moral  reasoning. 

^  186.  Use  of  definitions  and  axioms  in  demoiistralive  reasoning. 

In  every  process  of  reasoning,  there  must  be,  at  the 
commencement  of  it,  something  to  be  proved ;  there  must 
also  be  some  things,  either  known  or  taken  for  granted 
as  such,  with  which  the  comparison  of  the  propositions 
begins.  The  preliminary  truths  in  demonstrative  reason- 
ings are  involved  in  such  definitions  as  are  found  in  all 
mathematical  treatises.  It  is  impossible  to  give  a  dem- 
onstration of  the  propei'ties  of  a  circle,  parabola,  ellipse, 
or  other  mathematical  figure,  without  first  having  given  a 
definition  of  them.  Definitions,  therefore,  are  the  facts 
assumed,  the  first  principles  in  demonstrative  reasoning, 
from  which,  by  means  of  the  subsequent  steps,  the  conclu-» 
sion  is  derived. — We  find  something  entirely  similar  in 
respect  to  subjects  which  admit  of  the  application  of  a 
different  form  of  reasoning.  Thus,  in  Natural  Philosophy, 
the  general  facts  in  relation  to  the  gravity  and  elasticity 
of  the  air  may  be  considered  as  first  principles.  From 
these  principles  in  Physics  are  deducec,  as  consequences, 
the  suspension  of  the  mercury  in  the  barometer,  and  its 
fall  when  carried  up  to  an  eminence. 

We  n\ust  no<  forget  here  the  use  of  axioms  in  the  deni' 


DEMONSTEATIVE    REASONING.  tdU'6 

t»n!«trations  of  mathematics.  Axioms  are  certain  sv^ll-ev 
ident  propositions,  or  propositions  the  truth  of  (vhich  is 
discovered  by  intuition,  such  as  the  following :  "  Things 
equal  to  the  same,  are  equal  to  one  another;"  "From 
equals  take  away  equals,  and  equals  remain."  We  gen- 
erally find  a  number  of  them  prefixed  to  treatises  of  ge- 
ometry, and  other  treatises  involving  geometrical  princi- 
E)les ;  and  it  has  been  a  mistaken  supposition,  which  has 
ong  prevailed,  that  they  are  at  the  foundation  of  geomet- 
rical and  of  all  other  demonstrative  reasoning.  But 
axioms,  taken  by  themselves,  lead  to  no  conclusions. 
With  their  assistance  alone,  the  truth,  involved  in  proposi- 
tions susceptible  of  demonstration,  would  have  been  be- 
yond our  reach. 

But  axioms  are  by  no  means  without  their  use,  although 
their  nature  may  have  been  misunderstood.  They  are 
properly  and  originally  intuitive  perceptions  of  the  truth  ; 
and  whether  they  be  expressed  in  words,  as  w^e  gen- 
erally find  them,  or  not,  is  of  but  little  consequence,  ex- 
cept as  a  matter  of  convenience  to  beginners,  and  in  giv- 
\ng  instruction.  But  those  intuitive  perceptions  which 
ure  always  implied  in  them  are  essential  helps ;  and  if 
by  their  aid  alone  we  should  be  unable  to  complete  a 
demonstration,  we  should  be  equally  imable  without  them. 
We  begin  with  definitions ;  we  compare  together  suc- 
cessively a  number  of  propositions ;  and  these  intuitive 
perceptions  of  their  agreement  or  disagreement,  to  which, 
when  expressed  in  words,  we  give  the  name  of  axioms, 
attend  us  at  every  step. 

6   187.  The  oppositcs  of  dcnunstrative  reasonings  absurd. 

In  demonstrations  we  consider  only  one  side  of  a  ques- 
tion ;  it  is  not  necessary  to  do  anything  more  than  this. 
The  first  principles  in  the  reasoning  are  given ;  they  are 
not  only  supposed  to  be  certain,  but  they  are  assumed  as 
such ;  these  are  followed  by  a  number  of  propositions  in 
pu<^cession,  all  of  wdiich  are  compared  together ;  if  the 
conclusion  be  a  demonstrative  one,  then  there  has  beer  a 
clear  perception  of  certainty  at  every  step  in  the  train. 
Whatever  may  be  urg(^d  against  an  argument  thus  con- 
ducted is  of  uo  consequence;  the  opposite  cf  it  will  a] 


204  DEMONSTRATIVE    REASONING. 

ways  imply  some  fallacy.  Thus,  the  proposillurv  that  tiwi 
three  aiip,lcs  of  a  triangle  are  not  equal  to  two  righl 
angles,  and  other  propositions,  which  are  the  opposite  of 
what  has  been  demonstrated,  will  always  be  found  to  be 
false,  and  also  to  involve  an  absurdity  ;  that  is,  are  ui- 
consis'ent  with,  and  contradictory  to,  themselves. 

But  it  is  not  so  in  Moral  Reasoning  And  here,  there- 
fore, we  find  a  marked  distinction  between  the  two  grea» 
forms  of  ratiocination.  We  may  arrive  at  a  conclusion 
on  a  moral  subject  with  a  great  degree  of  certainty ;  not 
a  doubt  may  be  left  in  the  mind  ;  and  yet  the  opposite 
of  that  conclusion  may  be  altogether  within  the  limits  of 
possibility.  We  have,  for  instance,  the  most  satisfactory 
evidence  that  the  sun  rose  to-day,  but  the  opposite  might 
have  been  true,  without  any  inconsistency  or  contradic- 
tion, viz.,  That  the  sun  did  not  rise.  Again,  we  have  no 
doubt  of  the  great  law  in  physics,  that  heavy  bodies  de- 
scend to  the  earth  in  a  line  directed  towards  its  centre. 
But  we  can  conceive  of  the  opposite  of  this  without  involv- 
ing any  contradiction  or  absurdity.  In  other  words,  they 
might  have  been  subjected,  if  the  Creator  had  so  deter- 
mined, to  the  influence  of  a  law  requiring  them  to  move  in 
a  different  direction.  But,  on  a  thorough  examination  of 
a  demonstrative  process,  we  shall  find  ourselves  unable  to 
admit  even  the  possibility  of  the  opposite. 

<J  18S.   Demonstrations  dc  not  admit  of  different  degrees  of  belief. 

When  our  thoughts  are  employed  upon  subjects  which 
come  within  the  province  of  moral  reasoning,  we  yield 
different  degrees  of  assent ;  we  form  opinions  more  or  less 
probable.  Sometimes  our  belief  is  of  the  lowest  kind : 
nothing  more  than  mere  presumption.  New  evidence 
gives  it  new  strength ;  and  it  mav  20  on,  from  cne  de- 
gree of  strength  to  another,  till  all  aoubt  is  excluded,  and 
all  possibility  of  mistake  shut  out. — It  is  different  in  dem- 
onstrations ;  the  assent  which  we  yield  is  at  all  times  of 
the  highest  kind,  and  is  never  susceptible  of  beins:  recfaid- 
ed  as  more  or  less.  This  results,  as  must  be  obvious  on 
the  slightest  examination,  from  the  nature  of  deraonstra- 
live  reasoning. 

In  demonstrative  reasonings  w^e   always  begin  with 


DEMONSTRATIVE    EEASONING  203 

Certain  fust  principles  or  truths,  cither  known  or  t\ken  for 
granted ;  and  these  hold  the  first  place,  or  are  the  found- 
ation of  that  series  of  propositions  over  which  the  mind 
successively  passes  until  it  rests  in  the  conclusion.  In 
mathematics,  the  first  principles,  of  which  we  here  speak 
are  the  definitions. 

We  begin,  therefore,  with  what  is  aclmowledged  b) 
gil  to  be  true  or  certain.  At  every  step  there  is  an  intui 
live  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the 
proix).<itions  which  are  compared  together.  Consequent- 
ly, however  far  we  may  advance  in  the  comparison  of 
them,  there  is  no  possibility  of  falling  short  of  that  degree 
of  assent  with  which  it  is  acknowledged  that  the  series 
commenced. — So  that  demonstrative  certainty  may  be 
judged  to  amount  to  this.  Whenever  we  arrive  at  tlie 
last  step,  or  the  conclusion  of  a  series  of  propositions,  the 
mind,  in  effect,  intuitively  perceives  the  relation,  w^hether 
it  be  the  agreement  or  disagreement,  coincidence  or  want 
of  coincidence,  between  the  last  step  or  the  conclusion, 
and  the  conditions  involved  in  the  propositions  at  the 
commencement  of  the  series ;  and,  therefore,  demonstra- 
tive certainty  is  virtually  the  same  as  the  certainty  of  in» 
tuition.  Although  it  arises  on  a  different  occasion,  and 
Is,  therefore,  entitled  to  a  separate  consideration,  there  is 
no  difference  in  the  degree  of  belief. 

^  189.  Of  the  use  of  diagrams  in  demonstrations. 

In  conducting  a  demonstrative  process,  it  is  frequently 
the  case  that  we  make  use  of  various  kinds  of  figures  or 
diagrams. — The  proper  use  of  diagrams,  of  a  square,  cir- 
cle, triangle,  or  other  figure  which  we  delineate  before 
us,  is  to  assist  the  mind  in  keeping  its  ideas  distinct,  and 
to  help  in  comparing  them  together  with  readiness  and 
correctness.  They  are  a  sort  of  auxiliaries,  brought  in  to 
the  help  of  our  intellectual  infirmities,  but  are  not  abso- 
lutely necessary ;  since  demonstrative  reasoning,  wdiere- 
ever  it  may  be  found,  resembles  any  other  kind  of  reason- 
ing in  this  most  impoitant  respect,  viz.,  in  being  a  com- 
parison of  our  ideas. 

In  proof  that  artificial  diagrams  are  only  auxiliarieSj 
and  are  njt  essentially  necessary  in  demonstrations  h 

S 


20C  MORAL    REASONING. 

may  he  remarked,  that  they  are  necessarily  all  of  tkeia 
imperfect.  It  is  not  within  the  capahihty  of  the  wit  and 
power  of  man  to  frame  a  perfect  circle,  or  a  perfect  tri- 
angle, or  any  other  figure  which  is  perfect.  We  might 
argue  this  from  our  general  knowledge  of  the  imperfec- 
tion of  the  senses ;  and  w^e  may  almost  regard  it  as  a 
(matter  determined  by  experiments  of  the  senses  them- 
selves, aided  by  optical  instruments.  "  There  never  was," 
says  Cudworth,  "  a  straight  line,  triangle,  or  circle,  that  we 
saw  in  all  our  lives,  that  was  mathematically  exact ;  but 
even  sense  itself,  at  least  by  the  help  of  microscopes, 
might  plainly  discover  much  unevenness,  ruggedness,  flex- 
uosity,  angulosity,  irregularity,  and  deformity  in  them."* 
Our  reasonings,  therefore,  and  our  conclusions,  w^ill  not 
apply  to  the  figures  before  us,  but  merely  to  an  imagined 
perfect  figure.  The  mind  can  not  only  originate  a  figure 
internally  and  subjectively,  but  can  ascribe  to  it  the  attri- 
bute of  perfection.  And  a  verbal  statement  of  the  prop- 
erties of  this  imagined  perfect  figure  is  what  we  under- 
stand by  a  DEFINITION,  the  use  of  which,  in  this  kind  of 
reasoning  in  particular,  has  already  been  mentioned 


CHAPTER  XL 


MORAL    REASONING. 


^  190.  Of  the  subjects  and  importance  of  moral  reasoning. 

Moral  reasoning,  which  is  the  second  great  division  or 
kind  of  reasoning,  concerns  opinions,  actions,  and  e\  ents ; 
embracing,  in  general,  those  subjects  which  do  not  come 
within  the  province  of  demonstrative  reasoning.  The 
subjects  to  which  it  relates  are  often  briefly  expressed,  by 
Staying  tliat  they  are  matters  of  fact ;  nor  w^ould  this  defi- 
nition, concise  as  it  is,  be  likely  to  give  an  erroneous  idea 
of  them. 

Skill  in  this  kind  of  reasoning  is  of  great  us 3  in  thf 
fjrmation  of  opinions  concerning  the  duties  and  the  gen 

*  Treatise  roncerr.ing  Iiniiutable  Morality,  'jk    iv.,  cb   iii 


MORAL    REASONING.  2i»7 

eral  conduct  of  life.  Some  may  be  a  jt  to  think.,  that 
those  who  have  been  most  practised  in  demonstrative  rea- 
soning can  fmd  no  difficulty  in  adapting  their  intellectual 
habits  to  matters  of  mere  probability.  This  opinion  is 
not  altogether  well  founded.  Although  that  species  of 
jeasoning  has  a  favourable  result  in  giving  persons  a 
command  over  the  attention,  and  in  some  other  respects, 
whenever  exclusively  employed  it  has  the  effect,  in  some 
degree,  to  disqualify  them  tor  a  correct  judgment  on  those 
various  subjects  which  properly  belong  to  moral  reason* 
ing. — The  last,  therefore,  which  has  its  distinctive  name 
from  the  primary  signification  of  the  Latin  mores,  viz., 
manners,  customs,  &c.,  requires  a  separate  consideration. 

(j  191.   Of  the  nature  of  moral  certainty. 

Moral  reasoning  causes  in  us  different  degrees  of  as 
8ent,  and  in  this  respect  differs  from  demonstrative.  In 
demonstration  there  is  not  only  an  immediate  perception 
of  the  relation  of  the  propositions  compared  together, 
but,  in  consequence  of  their  abstract  and  determinats  na- 
ture, there  is  also  a  knowledge  or  absolute  certainty  of 
their  agreement  or  disagreement.  In  moral  reasoning 
the  case  is  somewhat  diffisrent. — In  both  kinds  we  begin 
with  certain  propositions,  which  are  either  known  or  re- 
garded as  such.  In  both  there  is  a  series  of  propositions 
luccessively  compared.  But  in  moral  reasoning,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  propositions  not  being  abstract  and  fixed, 
and,  therefore,  often  uncertain,  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment among  them  is,  in  general,  not  said  to  be  known, 
but  'presumed  ;  and  this  presumption  may  be  more  or  less, 
admitting  a  great  variety  of  degrees.  While,  therefore, 
one  mode  of  reasoning  is  attended  with  knowledge,  the 
other  can  properly  be  said  to  produce,  in  most  cases,  only 
judgment  or  opinion. — But  the  probability  of  such  judg- 
ment or  opinion  may  sometimes  arise  so  high  as  to  ex- 
clude all  reasona])le  doubt.  And  hence  we  tlien  speak 
as  if  we  possessed  certainty  in  respect  to  subjects  which 
admit  merely  of  the  application  of  moral  reasoning.  Al 
though  it  is  possible  that  there  may  be  some  dilference 
between  the  belief  attendant  on  demonstration  and  tha* 
produced  bv  tiie  highest  pnbability,  the  effect  on  our 


208  MORAL    REASONINft 

feelings  IS,  at  any  rate,  essentially  (he  same.  A.  main 
who  should  doubt  the  existence  of  the  cities  of  London 
and  Pekin,  although  he  has  no  other  evidence  of  it  than 
Ihat  of  testimony,  would  be  considered  hardly  less  singu- 
lar and  unreasonable  than  one  who  might  take  it  into  his 
head  to  doubt  of  the  propositions  of  Euclid. — It  is  this 
very  high  degree  of  probability  which  we  term  moral 
certainty. 

()  192.  Of  reasoning  from  analogy. 

Moral  reasoning  admits  of  some  subordinate  divisions; 
and  of  these,  the  first  to  be  mentioned  is  reasoning  from 
analogy.— T}xe  woul  analogy  is  used  with  some  vague- 
ness, but,  in  general,  denotes  a  resemblance,  either  greater 
or  less. — Having  observed  a  consistency  and  unitbrmity 
in  the  operations  of  the  physical  world,  we  are  naturally 
led  to  presume  that  things  of  the  same  nature  will  be  al- 
fected  in  the  same  way,  and  will  produce  the  same  effects ; 
and  also  that  the  same  or  similar  effects  are  to  be  attrib- 
uted to  like  causes.  Analogical  reasoning,  therefore,  is 
that  mental  process  by  which  unknown  truths  or  conclu- 
sions are  inferred  from  the  resemblance  of  things. 

The  argument  by  which  Sir  Isaac  Newton  establishes 
the  truth  of  universal  gravitation  is  of  this  sort.  He  proves 
that  the  planets,  in  their  revolutions,  are  deflected  towards 
the  sun  in  a  manner  prec/sely  similar  to  the  deflection  of 
the  earth  towards  the  same  luminary ;  and  also  that  there 
is  a  similar  deflection  of  the  moon  towards  the  earth,  and 
of  a  body  projected  obliquely  at  the  earth's  surface  to- 
wards the  earth's  centre.  Hence  he  infers  by  analogy, 
that  all  these  deflections  originate  from  the  same  cause, 
or  are  governed  by  one  and  the  same  law,  viz.,  the  power 
of  gravitation.  There  are  a  variety  of  subjects,  both  spec- 
ulative and  practical,  in  respect  to  which  we  may  reason 
in  this  way,  and  sometimes  with  considerable  satisfac- 
tion. It  is  nevertheless  true,  that  much  care  is  necessary 
ill  arguments  drawn  from  this  sour'^e,  especially  in  sci 
eutific  investigations.  The  proper  use  of  analogical  rea- 
soning in  scientific  inquiries  seems  to  be,  merely  to  illus- 
trate and  confirm  truths  which  are  susceptible  of  proof 
from  other  sources  of  evidence,  either  by  casting  a  dired 
additional  light  or  by  answering  objections 


MOr.Al     RKASOMNU  20S 

'  193.  0(  reasoiiiiig  by  induction. 

We  now  come  to  another  method  of  moral  re;is(.ning, 
viz.,  by  induction.  Indiidivs  reasoning  is  the  infeiTino 
of  general  truths  from  ])articular  facts  that  have  lallen 
under  our  ohservation.  Our  experience  teaches  us  that 
nature  is  governed  by  uniform  laws  ;  and  we  have  a  lirni 
expectation,  (whether  it  be  an  original  principle  of  our 
constitution,  or  whatever  may  be  the  origin  of  it,)  that 
events  will  happen  in  future,  as  we  have  seen  theni  hap- 
pen in  times  past.  With  this  state  of  mind  we  are  pre- 
pared to  deduce  inferences  by  induction. 

When  a  property  has  been  found  in  a  number  of  sub- 
jects of  the  same  kind,  and  nothing  of  a  contradictory 
nature  appears,  we  have  the  strongest  expectation  of 
finding  the  same  property  in  all  the  individuals  of  the 
same  class ;  in  other  words,  we  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  property  is  a  general  one.  Accordingly,  we  ap- 
ply a  magnet  to  several  pieces  of  iron  ;  we  find,  in  every 
instance,  a  strong  attraction  taking  place ;  and  we  con- 
dude,  although  we  have  made  the  experiment  with  only 
a  small  number  of  the  masses  of  iron  actually  in  exist- 
ence, that  it  is  a  property  of  iron  to  be  thus  atfected  by 
that  substance,  or  that  all  irorx  is  susceptible  of  magneti- 
ral  attraction.     This  is  a  conclusion  drawn  by  induction 

The  belief  which  attends  a  well-conducted  process  of 
inductive  reasoning  bears  a  decided  character ;  it  is  morii 
probability  of  the  highest  kind,  or  what  is  sometimes  term 
ed  moral  certainty ;  and  Is  at  least  found  to  be  sutficient 
for  all  practical  purposes.  We  obtain  all  the  general 
truths  relating  to  the  properties  and  laws  of  material  ob- 
jects in  this  way. 

And  we  thus  not  only  acquire  a  knowledge  of  material 
objects,  but  apply  the  same  inductive  process  also  in  the 
investigation  of  laws  which  govern  the  operations  of  the 
mind.  It  is  by  experience,  or  observing  what  takes  place 
in  a  number  of  individuals,  that  we  are  able  to  infer  the 
general  law  of  association,  viz.,  w^hen  two  or  more  ideas 
have  existed  in  the  mind  in  immediate  succession,  they 
are  afterward  found  to  be  mutually  suggested  by  each 
other.  It  is  the  same  in  ascertaining  other  general  hw* 
of  the  mind 

S2 


210  mora:.   KEASO.'fTNft. 

4  194.  Of  combined  or  accumulated  arguincij!. 
When  a  proposition  in  geometry  is  given  to  be  ckmcn- 
strat(:(?,  it  sometimes  happens  that  two  or  more  sohitiona 
may  be  offered  leading  to  the  same  end.  The  theorem 
or  the  problem  is  one  and  the  same,  as  also  the  conclu- 
sion ;  but  there  may  be  more  than  one  train  of  reasoning, 
more  tnan  one  series  of  intermediate  steps  connecting  the 
proposition  which  is  to  be  investigated  with  the  result. 
But  as  the  conclusion  in  each  of  these  different  cases  is 
certain,  it  does  not  strengthen  it,  although  it  may  gratify 
curit)sity  to  resort  to  a  different  and  additional  process. 

It  is  not  thus  in  moral  reasoning.  The  great  difference 
between  the  two  kinds  of  reasoning,  as  before  observed, 
is  not  so  much  in  the  mental  process  as  in  the  subjects 
about  which  they  are  employed.  Now,  as  the  subjects  in 
moral  reasoning  are  not  of  a  purely  abstract  nature,  and 
are,  therefore,  often  attended  with  uncertainty,  our  belief, 
when  we  arrive  at  the  conclusion,  is  not  ahvays  of  the 
highest  kind.  More  frequently  it  is  some  inferior  degree 
of  probability.  Hence,  in  any  moral  inquiry,  the  more 
numerous  the  series  of  arguments  which  terminates  in  a 
particular  conclusion,  the  stronger  will  be  our  belief  in 
the  truth  of  that  conclusion. 

Thus  we  may  suppose  a  question  to  arise.  Whether  the 
Romans  occupied  the  island  of  Great  Britain  at  some  pe- 
riod previous  to  the  Saxon  conquest?  In  reference  to 
this  inquiry  a  nmnber  of  independent  arguments  may  be 
brought  forward.  ( 1.)  The  testimony  of  the  Roman  his- 
torians. (2.)  The  remains  of  buildings,  roads,  and  en- 
campments, which  indicate  a  Roman  origin.  (3.)  The 
coins,  urns,  &c.,  which  have  been  discovered.  Although 
these  arguments  are  independent  of  each  other,  they  ail 
bear  upon  the  same  conclusion ;  and,  being  combined  to- 
pethe:,  they  very  esienlially  increase  the  strength  of  oui 


PBACTICAI,    DIRECTIONS    IN    REASOxVlNG.  21 J 

CHAPTER  Xn. 

FEACTICAL    DIRECTIONS    IN   REASONING. 

()  195.  Rules  relating  to  the  practice  of  reasoning. 

Various  directions  have  been  given  by  writers  on  Lo- 
g'lC,  (which,  it  may  be  remarked  here,  is  only  anothei 
name  for  whatever  concerns  the  nature,  kinds,  and  appli- 
cations of  Reasoning,)  the  object  of  which  is  to  secure  the 
more  prompt,  accurate,  and  efhcient  use  of  the  reasoning 
power.  It  is  but  natural  to  suppose,  that  some  of  these 
dialectical  rules  are  of  greater,  and  others  of  less  value. 
Such  as  appeared  to  be  of  the  least  questionable  impor- 
tance, are  brought  together  and  explained  in  this  chapter  ; 
nor  will  this  occasion  any  surprise,  when  it  is  recollected 
that  it  has  been  the  object  of  this  work  throughout,  not 
only  to  ascertain  what  the  mental  operations  are,  but,  by 
practical  suggestions  from  time  to  time,  to  promote  what 
is  of  a  good,  and  prevent  what  is  of  a  hurtful  tendency  in 
such  operations. 

The  directions  now  referred  to  have,  of  course,  a  more 
mtimate  connexion  with  Moral  than  with  Demonstrative 
reasoning;  but  this  is  a  circumstance  which  enhances 
rather  than  diminishes  their  worth.  The  occasions  which 
admit  and  require  the  applicaticn  of  moral  reasoning, 
being  inseparable  from  the  most  common  occurrences  and 
exigences  of  life,  are  much  more  numerous  than  those 
of  demonstrative  reasoning. 

()  1 J6.  Of  being  influf  nce4  in  reasoning  by  a  love  of  the  truth. 

(I.)  The  first  direction  in  relation  to  reasoning  which 
will  be  given,  concerns  the  feelinp-s  with  which  it  is  prc»p- 
er  to  be  animated.  It  is  this.  In  a'l  questions  which 
admit  of  discussion,  and  on  which  Wc'^  f\nd  ourselves  at 
variance  with  the  opinions  of  others,  vc  are  to  make  frufh 
our  object. — The  opposite  o*f  a  df^si^e  of  the  truth  is  a  wish 
lo  decide  the  subject  of  dispute  l;  dij  -^.Ta)' rather  than 
anotlier,  independently  of  a  ju?^  cyv-n)  lerati'.ii  of  the  evi 


2J2  PRACTICAL    DIRECTIONS    IN    REASONING. 

dence.  The  foundation  of  such  a  preference  of  one  resull 
to  another  are,  in  general,  the  prejudices  of  interest  and 
passion  ;  and  these  are  the  great  enemies  of  truth.  Wlien- 
ever  we  are  under  their  inliuence,  we  form  a  different  es- 
timation of  testimony,  and  of  other  sources  of  evidence, 
from  what  we  should  do  under  other  circumstances ;  and 
at  such  times  they  can  hardly  fail  to  lead  us  to  false  re- 
sults.— This  rule  is  important  on  all  occasions  of  reason- 
ing wliatever,  but  particularly  in  public  debate ;  because 
at  such  times  the  presence  of  others  and  the  love  of  vic- 
tory combine  with  other  unpropitious  influences  to  in- 
duce men  tc>  forget  or  to  disregard  the  claims  which  truth 
is  always  entitled  to  enforce. 

()  197.   Care  to  be  used  in  correctly  stating  the  subject  of  discussion. 

(II.)  Another  rule  in  the  prosecution  of  an  argument  is, 
that  the  question  under  debate  is  to  be  fairly  and  correctly 
stated.  The  matter  in  controversy  may  be  stated  in  such 
a  way  as  to  include,  in  the  very  enunciation  of  it,  some- 
thing taken  for  granted,  which  must  necessarily  lead  to  a 
decision  in  favour  of  one  of  the  opponents.  But  thiif 
amounts  to  begging  the  question,  a  species  of  fallacy  or 
sophism  upon  which  we  shall  again  have  occasion  to  re- 
mark.— Sometimes  the  subject  of  discussion  is  stated  so 
carelessly,  that  the  true  point  at  issue  is  wholly  left  out. 
It  may  be  proper,  therefore,  in  many  cases,  to  adopt  the 
practice  of  special  pleaders,  and  first  to  ascertain  all  the 
points  in  w^hich  the  opponents  agree,  and  those  in  which 
they  differ.  And  then  they  can  hardb  %il  of  directing 
their  arguments  to  what  is  truly  the  subject  of  contention. 

In  orcler  that  there  may  not  be  a  possibility  of  misun- 
derstanding here,  dialecticians  should  aim  to  have  clear 
ideas  of  everything  stated  in  the  question  which  has  an 
mtimate  connexion  with  the  point  at  issue.  Subordinate 
parts  of  the  question,  and  even  particular  words,  are  to  be 
examined.  If,  for  instance,  the  statement  affirm  or  deny 
anything  in  regard  to  the  qualities  or  properties  of  mate- 
rial bodies,  it  is  incumbent  upon  us  to  })ossess  as  clear 
ideas  as  possible,  both  of  the  object  in  general,  and  ol 
those  properties  or  qualities  in  particular.  Similar  re 
marks  will  apply  to  other  subiects  of  inquiry  of  wliatev 
pr  kind. 


PRACTICAL    /IKF.CTIONS    IN    REASONING  213 

0   198.   Consider  the  kind  of  evidence  applicable  to  the  subjcc 

(ni.)  As  one  subject  clearly  admits  of  the  application 
of  one  sj)ccies  of  evidence,  Avhile  another  as  clearly  re- 
quires eviilence  of  a  different  kind,  we  are  thence  enabled 
to  lay  down  this  rule,  viz.,  We  are  to  consider  what  kind 
of  evidence  is  appropriate  to  the  question  under  discus- 
won. 

ANTien  the  inquiry  is  one  of  a  purely  abstract  nature, 
and  all  the  propositions  involved  in  the  reasoning  are  of 
the  same  kind,  then  we  have  the  evidence  of  Intuition  or 
intuitive  perception  ;  and  the  conclusion,  for  reasons  al- 
ready mentioned,  is  certain. — In  the  examination  of  the 
properties  of  material  bodies,  we  depend  originally  on 
the  evidence  of  the  Senses ;  which  gives  a  character  and 
strength  to  our  belief,  according  to  the  circumstances  un- 
der which  the  objects  are  presented  to  them. — In  judging 
of  those  facts  in  events  and  in  the  conduct  of  men  which 
have  not  come  under  our  own  observation,  we  rely  on  Tes- 
timony. This  source  of  belief  causes  probability  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  according  as  the  testimony  is  from 
one  or  more,  given  by  a  person  who  understands  the  sub- 
ject to  which  it  relates,  or  not,  &c. — And  again,  some 
subjects  admit  of  the  evidence  of  Induction,  and  in  re- 
spect to  others  we  have  no  other  aids  than  the  less  au- 
thoritative reasonings  from  Analogy.  In  other  cases,  the 
evidence  is  wholly  made  up  of  various  incidental  circum- 
stances, which  are  found  to  have  relation  to  the  subject  in 
hand,  and  which  affect  the  belief  in  different  degrees  and 
for  various  causes. 

And  hence,  as  the  sources  of  belief,  as  well  as  the  be- 
lief itself,  have  an  intimate  connexion  with  the  subject  be- 
fore us,  they  ought  to  be  taken  into  consideration.  The 
evidence  should  be  appropriate  to  the  question.  But  if 
the  question  admit  of  more  than  one  kind  of  evidence, 
then  all  are  entitled  to  their  due  weight. 

J   199.   Reject  tlie  aid  of  false  arguments  or  sophisms. 

{ IV. )  There  is  a  species  of  false  reasoning  which  we 
call  a  SOPHISM.  A  sophism  is  an  argument  which  con- 
tains some  secret  fallacy  under  the  general  appearance  of 
con  cctnes-s.     The  aid  of  such  arguments,  which  are  cal 


211  .TACTICAL    I/IKKCTION^    IN    KEASONnViV. 

culv'.rid  to  deceive,  and  are,  iii  general,  inconsistent  with 
a  love  of  the  truth,  should  be  rejected. 

(1.)  Ignoratio  elenchi,  or  misapprehension  of  the 
question,  is  one  instance  of  sophism.  It  exists  when, 
from  some  misunderstanding  of  the  terms  and  })hrases  that 
are  employed,  the  arguments  advanced  do  not  truly  apply 
to  the  point  in  debate.  It  was  a  doctrine,  for  instance, 
of  some  of  the  early  philosophic  teachers  of  Greece,  that 
there  is  but  one  principle  of  things.  Aristotle,  under 
standing  by  the  word  principle  what  we  commonly  ex- 
press by  the  word  element,  attempted  to  show  the  con- 
trary, VIZ.,  that  the  elements  are  not  one,  but  many ;  thus 
incuri'ing  the  imputation  of  ignoratio  elenchi  ;  for  those 
who  held  the  doctrine  which  was  thus  subjected  to  his 
animadversion,  had  reference,  not  to  the  forms,  but  the 
cause  of  things ;  not  to  any  doctrine  of  elementary  mate- 
rial particles,  but  to  the  intellectual  origin,  the  creative 
mind,  the  Su})rerae  Being,  whom,  as  the  principle,  (that 
is,  as  the  beginning  and  the  support  of  things,)  they  main- 
tained to  be  one.* 

(2.)  Petitio  principii,  or  begging  of  the  question,  is 
another  instance  of  sophism.  This  sophism  is  found 
whenever  the  disputant  offers,  in  proof  of  a  proposition, 
the  proposition  itself  in  other  words.  The  following  has 
been  given  as  an  instance  of  this  fallacy  in  reasoning : — 
A  person  attempts  to  prove  that  God  is  eternal,  by  main- 
taining that  his  existence  is  without  beginning  and  with- 
out end.  Here  the  proof  which  is  otfered,  and  the  prop- 
osition itself  which  is  to  be  proved,  are  essentially  the 
same. — When  we  are  told  that  opium  causes  sleep,  be  • 
cause  it  has  a  soporific  quality,  or  that  grass  grows  by 
means  of  its  vegetative  power,  the  same  thing  is  repeated 
in  other  terms. — This  fallacy  is  very  frequently  practised ; 
and  a  little  care  in  detecting  it  would  spoil  many  a  fint 
saying,  as  well  as  deface  many  an  elaborate  argument 
What  is  called  arguing  in  a  circle  is  a  species  of  soph- 
Ism  very  nearly  related  to  the  above.  It  consists  in  ma 
king  two  propositions  reciprocally  prove  each  other. 

(3.)  NoN  causa  pro  causa,  or  the  assignation  of  a  fala 

*  La  Logique  ou  T/art  de  Pcuscr,  (Port  llo^aic)  part  iii.,  chao.  x«x 


PKACflCAL    DIKECriONS    IN    KEASONING.  215 

cause. — People  are  unwilling  to  be  thought  ignorant; 
rather  than  be  thought  so,  they  will  impose  on  (he  credu- 
lity of  tlieir  fellow-men,  ;md  sometimes  on  themselvej*, 
by  assigning  false  causes  of  events.  Nothing  is  more 
common  than  this  sophism  among  illiterate  peopxC  ;  pride 
is  not  diminished  by  deficiency  of  learning,  and  such 
people,  therefore,  must  gratify  it  by  assigning  such  causes 
of  events  as  they  find  nearest  at  hand.  Hence,  when  the 
appearance  of  a  comet  is  followed  by  a  famine  or  a  war, 
they,  are  disposed  to  consider  it  as  the  cause  of  those  ca- 
lamities. If  a  person  have  committed  some  flagrant 
crime,  and  shortly  after  suffer  some  heavy  distress,  it  is 
no  uncommon  thing  to  hear  the  former  assigned  as  the 
direct  and  the  sole  cause  of  the  latter.  Tliis  was  the  fal- 
lacy which  historians  have  ascribed  to  the  Indians  of 
Paraguay,  who  supposed  the  baptismal  ceremony  to  be 
the  cause  of  death,  because  the  Jesuit  missionaries,  when- 
ever opportunity  offered,  administerwl  it  to  dying  infants, 
and  to  adults  in  the  last  stage  of  disease. 

(4.)  Another  species  of  sophistry  is  called  fallacia 
flCCiDENTis. — We  tall  into  this  kind  of  false  reasoning 
whenever  we  give  an  opinion  concerning  the  general 
nature  of  a  thing  from  some  accidental  circumstance. 
Thus,  the  Christian  religion  has  been  made  the  pretext  for 
persecutions,  and  has,  in  consequence,  been  the  source  of 
much  suffering ;  but  it  is  a  sophism  to  conclude  that  it  is, 
on  the  whole,  not  a  great  good  to  the  human  race,  be- 
cause it  has  been  attended  with  this  perversion.  Again, 
if  a  medicine  have  operated  in  a  particular  case  unfa- 
v'ourably,  or,  in  another  case,  have  operated  very  favour- 
<)bly,  the  universal  rejection  or  reception  of  it,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  favourable  or  unfavourable  result  in  a  par- 
ticular instance,  would  be  a  hasty  and  fallacious  induc- 
tion of  essentially  the  same  sort.  That  is,  the  general 
nature  of  the  thing  is  estimated  from  a  circumstance 
which  may  be  wholly  accidental. 

^  200.  Fallacia  equivocationis,  or  the  use  ol  equivocal  terms  1 1>\  phrase^ 

(V.)  It  is  a  further  direction  of  much  practical  impji« 
tance,  that  the  rcasoner  should  be  careful,  in  I  he  use  of 
language,  to  cs:press  everything  v.'ilh  plainness  and  pr«- 


216  TRACTICAL    DIRELllONS    IN    R 'iASOMNG. 

cisiou ;  and,  especially,  never  attempt  to  })i'tjudice  the 
cause  of  truth,  and  snatch  a  surreptitious  victory  by  tbe 
use  of  an  equivocal  phraseology.  No  man  of  an  enlar- 
ged and  cultivated  mind  can  be  ignorant  that  multitudes 
of  words  in  every  language  admit  of  diversities  of  sig- 
nification. There  are  found  als)  in  all  languages  many 
words,  which  sometimes  agree  with  each  other,  and 
sometimes  differ  in  signification,  according  to  the  connex- 
ion in  which  they  appear,  and  their  particular  application. 
There  is,  therefore,  undoubtedly  an  opportunity,  if  any 
should  be  disposed  to  embrace  it,  of  employing  equivocal 
terms,  equivocal  phrases,  and  perplexed  and  mysteriouu 
combinations  of  speech,  and  thus  hiding  themselves  from 
Ihe  penetrating  light  of  truth,  under  cover  of  a  mist  of 
Iheir  own  raising. 

No  man,  whose  sole  object  is  truth  and  justice,  will  re- 
port to  such  a  discreditable  subterfuge.  If,  in  reasoning, 
he  finds  himself  inadvertently  employing  words  of  an 
equivocal  signification,  it  A\all  be  a  first  care  with  him  to 
,f  uard  against  the  misapprehensions  likely  to  result  from 
that  source.  He  will  explain  so  precisely  the  sense  in 
which  he  uses  the  doubtful  terms,  as  to  leave  no  proba- 
bility of  cavilling  and  mistake. 

J  201.  Of  the  sophism  of  estimating  actions  and  character  from  .he  ;ii 
cumstance    of  success  merely. 

(VI.)  The  foregoing  are  some  of  the  fallacies  in  rea- 
soning which  have  found  a  place  in  writers  of  Logic. 
To  these  might  be  added  the  fallacy  or  sophism  to  which 
men  are  obviously  so  prone,  of  judging  favourably  of 
tnc  characters  and  the  deeds  of  others  from  the  mere 
circumstance  of  success.  Those  actions  which  have  a 
decidedly  successful  termination  are  almost  always  ap- 
plauded, anii  are  looked  upon  as  the  result  of  great  intel- 
lectual torecasi ;  while,  not  less  frequently,  actions  that 
hav3  F.a  unsuccessful  issue  are  not  only  stigmatized  as 
evil  in  themselves,  bui  as  indicating  in  their  projector  a 
ilighty  and  ill-balanced  mind. — The  fallacy,  however, 
does  not  consist  ir  taking  tne  issuc-s  or  results  into  consid- 
eration, which  are  undoubtedly  entitled  to  their  due  place 
m  estimating  the  actions  and  characters  of  men,  but  in 
too  nnich  hm'tiiii^  our  view  of  linngs,  and  forming  a  fa- 


PKACTlCAu    DIRECTIONS    IN    llEASONINO.  217 

nvui'able  or  unfavourable  judgment  from  the  mi-re  cir- 
cvmstancc  of  good  or  ill  success  alone. 

While  there  is  no  sophism  more  calculated  to  lead  as- 
tray and  perplex,  there  is  none  more  common  than  this ; 
BO  much  so,  that  it  has  almost  passed  into  a  proverb,  that 
a  hero  must  not  only  be  brave,  but  fortunate.  Hence  it 
is  that  Alexander  is  called  Great  because  he  gained,  victo- 
ries and  overran  kingdoms;  while  Charles  Xll.  of  Swe- 
den, who  the  most  nearly  resembles  him  in  the  character- 
istics of  bravery,  perseverance,  and  chimerical  ambition, 
but  had  his  projects  cut  short  at  the  fatal  battle  of  Pulto- 
wa,  is  called  a  madman. 

"  Machiavel  has  justly  animadverted,"  says  Dr.  John- 
son, "  on  the  different  notice  taken  by  all  succeeding 
times  of  the  two  great  projectors  Catiline  and  Ceesar. 
Both  formed  the  same  project,  and  intended  to  raise 
themselves  to  power  by  subverting  the  commonwealth. 
They  pursued  their  design,  perhaps,  with  equal  abilities 
and  equal  virtue ;  but  Catiline  perished  in  the  field,  and 
Caesar  returned  from  Pharsalia  with  unlimited  authority ; 
and  from  that  time,  every  monarch  of  the  earth  has 
thought  himself  honoured  by  a  comparison  with  Csesar  ; 
and  Catiline  has  never  been  mentioned  but  that  his  name 
might  be  applied  to  traitors  and  incendiaries." 

(j  202.  Of  adherence  to  our  opinions. 

Wlienever  the  rules  laid  down  have  been  followed,  and 
conclusions  have  been  formed  with  a  careful  and  candid 
regard  to  the  evidence  presented,  those  opinions  are  to  be 
asserted  and  maintained  with  a  clue  degree  of  confidence. 
It  would  evince  an  unjustifiable  weakness  to  be  driven 
from  our  honest  convictions  by  the  effrontery,  or  even  by 
Ihe  upright  though  misguided  ;:eal,  of  an  opponent.  Not 
th?.t  a  person  is  to  set  himself  up  for  infallible,  and  to  sup- 
[)asc  that  new  accessions  of  evidence  are  impossible,  or 
that  it  is  an  impossibility  for  him  to  have  new  views  of  the 
evidence  already  examined.  But  a  suitable  degree  of 
stability  is  necessary  in  order  to  be  respected  and  useful ; 
and,  in  the  case  supposed,  such  stability  can  be  exhibited 
without  incurring  the  charge,  which  is  sometimes  'hrcwa 
out,  of  dorroediiess  and  iutolerance. 


218  PRACTICAL    l/iKECTIONS    ITS    REASONING. 

It  is  further  to  be  observed,  that  we  are  not  alv\a}s  to 
rehnquish  judgments  which  have  been  formed  in  the  v;a)f 
Dointed  out,  when  objections  are  afterward  raised  which 
we  cannot  immediately  answer.  The  person  thus  attack- 
ed can,  with  good  reason,  argue  in  this  way :  I  have  onc« 
examined  the  subject  carefully  and  candidly ;  the  evi- 
dence, both  in  its  particulars  and  in  its  m'ultitude  of  bear- 
ings, has  had  its  weight ;  many  minute  and  evanescent 
circumstances  were  taken  into  view  by  the  mind,  which 
have  now  vanished  from  my  recollection  ;  I  tfierefore  dc 
not  feel  at  liberty  to  alter  an  opinion  thus  formed,  in 
consequence  of  an  objection  now  brought  up,  which  I  am 
unable  to  answer,  but  choose  to  adhere  to  my  present 
judgment,  until  the  whole  subject,  including  this  objec- 
tion, can  be  re-examined. — This  reasoning  would  .a  most 
cases  be  correct,  and  would  be  entirely  consistent  with 
that  love  of  truth  and  openness  to  conviction  whicli  ought 
<;ver  to  be  maintained. 

"^  203.  Effects  on  the  mil  d  of  debating  for  victory  instead  of  truth. 

By  way  of  supporting  the  remarks  under  the  fii^t  rule 
we  here  introduce  the  subject  of  contending  for  victory 
merely.  He  who  contends  with  this  object,  takes  every 
advantage  of  his  opponent  which  can  subserve  his  own 
purpose.  For  instance,  he  will  demand  a  species  of  proof 
or  a  degree  of  proof  which  the  subject  in  dispute  does  not 
admit;  he  gives,  if  possible,  a  false  sense  to  the  words 
and  statements  employed  by  the  other  side  ;  he  questions 
facts  wdiich  he  himself  fully  beheves  and  everybodv  else, 
in  the  expectation  that  the  opposite  party  is  not  furnished 
with  direct  and  positive  evidence  of  them.  In  a  word, 
wherever  an  opening  presents,  he  takes  the  utmost  udvan<' 
tage  of  his  opponent,  however  much  against  his  own  in» 
ternaf  convictions  of  right  and  justice. 

Such  a  course,  to  say  nothing  of  its  moral  turpitude, 
effectually  unsettles  that  part  of  our  mental  economy 
which  concerns  the  grounds  and  law^s  of  belief.  The 
practice  of  inventing  cunningly  devised  objections  against 
arguments  known  to  be  sound,  necessarily  impairs  the  in- 
fliaence  which  such,  aro^uments  ouoht  to  exert  ovpr  u& 
llence  the  remark  has  been  made  with  justice,  that  pei 


IMAijlNATION.  iiVi 

aor.L*  \\l.o  addict  themselves  to  this  practice  fiequentljf 
end  in  becoming  skeptics.  They  have  so  olten  perplex- 
ed, and  apparently  overthrown  what  they  felt  to  be  true, 
that  they  at  last  question  the  existence  of  any  fixed  groinid 
of  belief  in  the  human  constitution,  and  begin  to  doubt 
of  everything. 

This'  effect,  even  when  the;t  is  ab  undoubted  regard 
Dr  the  truth,  will  be  io^^A  to  follow  from  habit.<=  of  ar- 
dent disputation,  unV^^ia  there  be  a  frequent  recurrence  to 
the  original  principles  of  the  mind  which  relate  to  the 
nature  and  laws  of  belief.  The  learned  Chillingworth  is 
an  instance.  The  consequences  to  whkli  the  training  up 
of  his  vast  powers  to  the  sole  art  of  disputation  finally 
led,  are  stated  by  Clarendon. — "  Mr.  Chillingworth  had 
spent  all  his  younger  time  in  disputations,  and  had  arrived 
at  so  great  a  mastery  that  he  was  inferior  to  no  man  in 
those  skirmishes ;  but  he  had,  with  his  notable  perfection 
in  this  exercise,  contracted  such  an  irresolution  and  habit 
(of  doubting,  that,  by  degrees,  he  became  confident  of 
nothing.  Neither  the  books  of  his  adversaries  nor  any  of 
their  persons,  though  he  was  acquainted  wdth  the  best  of 
both,  had  ever  made  great  impression  oii  him.  All  hia 
doubts  grewDut  of  himself,  when  he  assisted  his  scruples 
with  all  the  strength  of  his  own  reason,  and  was  then  too 
hard  for  himself." 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

IMAGINATION. 
<i  204.  Imagination  an  intellectual  rather  than  a  sensitive  process. 

Leaving  the  subject  of  reasoning,  we  next  proceed  to 
the  consideration  of  the  Imaginatior  ;  which,  as  w^ell  as 
the  reasoning  power,  obviously  comes  under  the  general 
liead  of  the  Intellect  rather  than  of  the  Sensibilities.  It 
b  true,  we  are  apt  to  associate  the  exercises  of  the  heart 
with  those  of  the  imagination,  and  undoubtedly  we  have 
some  reason  for  doing  so  ;  but  in  doing  this  wc  are  liable 


220  IMAGI\ATI0N. 

not  ineiely  to  associate,  but  to  identify  and  ccnfounci  them. 
But  they  are,  in  fact,  essentially  different.  An  exejcise  ol 
the  Imagination,  in  itself  considered,  is  purely  an  intel- 
lectual process.  The  process  may,  indeed,  ])e  stimulated 
and  accelerated  by  a  movement  of  the  sensibilities  :  there 
may  be  various  extraneous  influences  operating  either  to 
mcrease  or  to  diminish  its  vivacity  and  energy ;  but  the 
process  itself,  considered  separately  from  contingent  cir- 
cumstances, is  wholly  intellectual.  So  that  he  who  pos- 
sesses a  creative  and  well-sustained  imagination,  may  be 
said,  with  no  small  degree  of  truth,  to  possess  a  powerful 
intellect,  whatever  torpidity  may  characterize  the  region 
of  the  affections. 

^  205.  The  imagination  closely  related  to  the  reasoning  power. 

The  imagination  is  not  only  entitled  to  be  ranked  un- 
der the  general  head  of  the  Intellect,  in  distinction  from 
the  Sensibilities  ;  but  it  is  to  be  remarked  further,  which 
may  perhaps  have  escaped  the  notice  of  some,  that  it  pos- 
sesses, especially  in  the  process  or  mode  of  its  action,  a 
close  affinity  with  the  reasoning  power.  It  is  a  remark 
ascribed  to  D'Alembert,  whose  great  skill  in  the  mathe- 
matics would  seem  to  justify  his  giving  an  opinion  on 
such  a  subject,  that  the  imagination  is  brought  into  exer- 
cise in  geometrical  processes ;  which  is  probably  true, 
so  far  as  some  of  the  mental  acts  involved  in  imagination, 
such  as  association  and  the  perception  of  relations,  are 
concerned.  And,  in  illustration  of  his  views,  he  inti-- 
mates,  in  the  same  connexion,  that  Archimedes  the  geora" 
etrician,  of  all  the  great  men  of  antiquity,  is  best  entitled 
to  be  placed  by  the  side  of  Homer.*  Certain  it  is,  that^ 
in  some  important  respects,  there  is  an  intimate  relation- 
ship between  the  powers  in  question,  the  deductive  and 
imao-inative.  They  both  imply  the  antecedent  exercise 
of  the  power  of  abstraction ;  they  are  both  occupied  in 
framing  new  combinations  of  thought  from  the  elements 
already  in  possession  ;  they  both  put  in  requisition,  and  in 
precisely  the  same  w^ay,  the  powers  of  association  and  rel- 
ative suggestion.  But,  at  the  same  time,  they  are  separ- 
ated from  each  other  and  characterized  by  the  two  cir- 
fvumstances,  that  their  objects  are  different,  and  that  Ibej 

-    Stewart's  Ili-storical  Disscrtatirn  —Picfal-.^v  Reinuxk* 


IMAGINATION  22  i 

opojate,  in  {ydi"*  ^  on  cLfforent  materials.  Reasoning,  as  it 
aims  to  o-ive  iis  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  deals  exclusive- 
ly with  tacts  more  or  less  probable.  Imagination,  as  it 
eims  chiefly  to  give  pleasure,  is  at  liberty  to  transcend 
♦he  limits  of  the  world  of  reality,  and,  consequently,  often 
deals  wath  the  mere  conceptions  of  the  mind,  whether 
ihey  correspond  to  reality  or  not.  Accordingly,  the  one 
•ascertains  what  is  true,  the  other  what  is  possible ;  the 
office  of  the  one  is  to  inquire,  of  the  other  to  create ;  rea- 
soning is  exercised  within  the  limits  of  what  is  known  and 
actual,  while  the  appropriate  empire  of  the  imagination  is 
the  region  of  the  conjectural  and  conceivable. 

§    206.  Definition  of  the  power  of  imagination. 

VVilhout  delaying  longer  upon  the  subject,  which,  how  • 
eyer,  is  not  without  its  importance,  of  the  place  which  im- 
agination ought  to  occupy  in  a  philosophical  classification  • 
of  the  mental  powers,  we  next  proceed  to  consider  more 
particularly  what  imagination  is,  and  in  what  manner  it 
operates. — Imagination  is  a  complex  exercise  of  the  mind, 
by  means  of  which  various  conceptions  are  combined  to- 
gether, so  as  to  form  new  wholes.  The  conceptions  have 
properly  enough  been  regarded  as  the  materials  from 
which  the  new  creations  are  made  ;  but  it  is  not  until  af- 
ter the  existence  of  those  mental  acts  which  are  implied 
in  every  process  of  the  imagination,  that  they  are  fixed 
upon,  detained,  and  brought  out  from  their  state  of  single- 
ness into  happy  and  beautiful  combinations. 

Our  conceptions  have  been  compared  to  shapele.'=;3 
stones,  as  they  exist  in  the  quarry,  "  which  require  little 
more  than  mechanic  labour  to  convert  them  into  common 
ilwellings,  but  that  rise  into  palaces  and  temples  only  at 
the  command  of  architectural  genius."  That  rude  and 
little  more  than  mechanic  effort,  which  c^/nverts  the  shape- 
Jess  stones  of  the  quarry  into  common  dwellingfs,  may 
justly  be  considered,  when  divested  of  its  metaphorical 
aspect,  a  correct  representation  of  this  mental  property^  as 
it  oxists  among  the  groat  mass  of  mankind  ;  while  the 
architccluial  genius  which  creates  palaces  and  temples  is 
the  well-furnished  and  sublime  imagination  of  poets, 
pain'ers,  and  orators. 

T2 


222  IMAGINATION. 

Wt:  speak  uf  hiiaginatior.  as  a  compltix  mental  opera- 
tion, because  it  implies,  in  particular,  the  exercise  of  the 
power  of  association  in  furnishing  those  conceptions  which 
arc  combined  together ;  also  the  exercise  of  the  power  of 
relative  suggestion,  by  means  of  which  the  combination  h 
effected. 

^  207.  Process  of  the  mind  in  the  creations  of  the  imagination. 

It  may  assist  us  in  more  fully  miderstanding  the  nature 
of  imagination,  if  we  endeavour  to  examine  the  intellect- 
ual operations  of  one  who  makes  a  formal  effort  at  wri- 
ting, whether  the  production  he  has  in  view  be  poetical  or 
of  some  other  kind. — A  person  cannot  ordinarily  be  sup- 
posed to  sit  down  to  write  on  any  occasion  whatever, 
whether  it  involve  a  hig-her  or  lesser  degree  of  the  exer- 
cise  of  the  imagination,  without  having  some  general  idea 
of  the  subject  to  be  written  upon  already  in  the  mind. 
The  general  idea,  or  the  subject  in  its  outlinea,  must  be 
supposed  to  be  already  present.  He  accordingly  com- 
mences the  task  before  hira  with  the  expectation  and  the 
desire  of  developing  the  subject  more  or  less  fully,  of  giv 
ing  to  it  not  only  a  greater  continuity  and  a  better  ar- 
rangement, but  an  increased  interest  in  every  respect. 
As  he  feels  interested  in  the  topic  which  he  proposes  to 
write  upon,  he  can,  of  course,  by  a  mere  act  of  the  will, 
although  he  might  not  have  been  able  in  the  first  instance 
to  have  originated  it  by  such  an  act,  detain  it  before  him 
for  a  length  of  time. 

Various  conceptions  continue,  in  the  mean  while,  to 
arise  in  the  mind,  on  the  common  principles  of  asso- 
ciation ;  but,  as  the  general  outline  of  the  subject  re- 
mains fixed,  they  all  have  a  greater  or  less  relation  to  it 
And  partaking  in  some  measure  of  the  permanency  of 
the  outline  to  which  they  have  relation,  the  writer  haa 
an  [opportunity  to  approve  some  and  to  reject  others,  ac- 
cording as  they  impress  him  as  being  suitable  or  unsuita- 
ble to  the  nature  of  the  subject.  Those  which  affect  hira 
Vvith  emotions  of  pleasure,  on  account  of  their  perceived 
fitness  for  the  subject,  are  retained  and  committed  to  wri- 
ting; while  others,  whi-h  do  not  thus  affect  and  interest 
nim,  soon  fade  away  altogether. — WTtc«ver  carefully  no- 


1MA.G1NATI0N  22G 

U-.es  the  operdtwiis  of  his  own  mind,  when  he  makes  an 
efibrt  at  composition,  will  probably  be  well  satisfied  that 
this  account  of  the  intellectual  process  is  very  near  the 
truth. 

^  20S.  Further  remarks  on  the  same  subjec:. 

The  juocess,  therefore,  stated  in  the  most  simple  and 
Loncise  terms,  is  as  follovv's.  We  first  think  of  some  sub" 
ject.  With  the  original  thought  or  design  of  the  subject, 
there  is  a  coexistent  desii'e  to  investigate  it,  to  adorn  it, 
to  present  it  to  the  examination  of  others.  The  effect  of 
this  desire,  followed  and  aided  as  it  naturally  is  at  such 
times  by  an  act  of  the  will,  is  to  keep  the  general  subject 
in  mind ;  and,  as  the  natural  consequence  of  the  exercise 
of  association,  various  conceptions  arise,  in  some  way  or 
other  related  to  the  general  subject.  Of  some  of  these 
conceptions  we  approve  in  consequence  of  their  perceived 
fitness  to  the  end  in  view,  while  we  reject  others  on  ac- 
count of  the  absence  of  this  requisite  quality  of  agreeable- 
ness  or  fitness. 

For  the  sake  of  convenience  and  brevity  we  give  the 
«ame  of  imagination  to  this  complex  state  or  series  of  states 
of  the  mind.  It  is  important  to  possess  a  single  term  ex- 
pressive of  the  complex  intellectual  process ;  otherwisCj 
as  we  so  frequently  have  occasion  to  refer  to  it  in  com- 
mon conversation,  we  should  be  subjected,  if  not  proper- 
ly to  a  circumlocution,  at  least  to  an  unnecessary  multipli- 
cation of  words.  But  while  we  find  it  so  much  for  our 
convenience  to  make  use  of  this  term,  we  should  be  care- 
ful and  not  impose  upon  ourselves,  by  ever  remembering 
that  it  is  the  name,  nevertheless,  not  of  an  original  and 
independent  faculty,  which  of  itself  accomplishes  ajl  that 
has  been  mentioned,  but  of  a  complex  or  combined  ac*- 
iion  of  a  number  of  faculties. 

^  209.   Illustration  from  the  writings  of  Dr.  Reid. 

Dr.  Reid  (Essay  iv.,  ch.  iv.)  gives  the  following  grapti 
teal  statement  of  the  selection  which  is  made  by  the  wri- 
ter from  the  variety  of  his  constantly  arising  and  depart- 
hig  conceptions. — "  We  seem  to  treat  the  thoughts,  that 
ji^esent  themselves  to  the  fiuicy  in  crowds,  as  3  great  man 


^"24  IMAG INATION. 

treats  those  [courtiers]  that  attend  his  k-vee.  They  are 
all  ambitious  of  his  attention.  He  goes  round  the  circle. 
bestowing  a  bow  upon  one,  a  smile  upon  another,  asks  a 
short  question  of  a  third,  while  a  fourth  is  honoured  a\  ith 
a  particular  conference  ;  and  the  greater  ptut  have  no 
particular  mark  of  attention,  but  go  as  they  came.  It  is 
true,  he  can  give  no  mark  of  his  attention  to  those  who 
were  not  there  ;  but  he  has  a  suflicient  number  for  making 
8  choice  and  distinction." 

i)  310.  Grounds  of  the  preference  of  one  conception  to  another. 

A  question  after  all  arises.  On  what  principle  is  the 
mind  enabled  to  ascertain  that  congruity  or  incongruity, 
fitness  or  unfitness,  agreeably  to  which  it  makes  the  selec- 
tion from  its  various  conceptions?  The  fact  is  admitted, 
that  the  intellectual  principle  is  successively  in  a  series  of 
different  states,  or,  in  other  words,  that  there  are  succe&sive 
conceptions  or  images,  but  the  inquiry  still  remains.  Why 
is  one  image  in  the  group  thought  or  known  to  be  more 
worthy  than  any  other  image,  or  ^vhy  are  any  two  ima- 
ges combined  together  in  preference  to  any  two  others  ? 

The  answer  is,  it  is  owing  to  no  secondary  law,  but  to 
an  instantaneous  and  original  suggestion  of  fitness  or  unfit- 
ness. Those  conceptions  which,  by  means  of  lhi.<<  origi- 
nal power  of  perceiving  the  relations  of  things,  are  /..  :jid 
to  be  suitable  to  the  general  outlines  of  the  subject,  are 
detained.  Those  images  which  are  perceived  to  possess 
a  peculiar  congruity  and  fitness  for  each  other,  are  united 
together,  ferming  new  and  more  beautiful  compounds. 
While  owners,  although  no  directly  voluntary  power  ap- 
pears f  J  be  exercised  over  either  class,  are  neglected  and 
8000  oecome  extinct.  But  no  account  of  this  vivid  feel- 
in^  of  approval  or  disapproval,  of  this  very  rapid  percep- 
tion of  the  mutual  congruity  of  the  images  for  each  other 
or  for  the  general  conception  of  the  subject,  can  be  given, 
other  than  this,  that  wnth  such  a  power  the  original  au« 
thor  of  our  intellectual  susceptibilities  has  been  pleased  to 
form  us.  This  is  our  nature ;  here  we  find  one  of  the 
elements  of  our  intellectual  efficiency  ;  without  it  \\v. 
might  still  be  intellectual  beings,  but  it  would  be  witj; 
the  loss  both  of  the  reasoning  power  and  of  the  ini?.gi< 
nat'on 


TTVIAGINATION.  22f 

^  2il    Iliuslrdtion  of  llie  subject  from  Millon 

What  has  been  said  can  perhaps  be  made  jJaiuei,  by 
:  onsidering  in  -what  way  Milton  must  have  proceeded  iu 
forming  his  happy  description  of  the  Garden  of  Eden 
He  had  formed,  in  the  first  place,  some  general  outlines 
of  the  subject ;  and  as  it  was  one  which  greatly  interest- 
ed his  feelings,  the  interest  which  was  felt  tended  to  keep 
the  outhnes  steadily  before  him.  If  the  feeling  of  intei- 
pst  was  not  sulhcient  lo  keep  the  general  subject  befcffe 
the  mind,  he  could  hardly  fail  to  detain  it  there  by  add- 
ing the  influence  of  a  direct  and  decisive  act  of  the  will 
Then  the  principles  of  association,  w^hich  are  ever  at  work, 
brought  up  a  great  variety  of  conceptions,  having  a  rela- 
tion of  some  kind  to  those  general  features  ;  such  as  con 
ceptions  of  rocks,  and  woods,  and  rivers,  and  green  lea\es, 
and  golden  fruit. 

The  next  step  was  the  exercise  of  that  power  which  we 
liave  of  perceiving  relations,  which  we  sometimes  denom- 
inate the  Judgment,  but  more  appropriately  the  suscepti- 
bility or  power  of  Relative  Suggestion.  By  means  ol 
this  he  was  at  once  able  to  determine,  whether  the  con- 
ceptions which  were  suggested  were  suitable  to  the  gen 
eral  design  of  the  description  and  to  each  other,  and 
whether  they  would  have,  when  combined  together  to 
form  one  picture,  a  pleasing  effect.  Accordingly,  those 
which  w^ere  judged  most  suitable  were  combined  togethei 
as  parts  of  the  imaginary  creation,  and  were  detained  and 
fixed  by  means  of  that  feeling  of  interest  and  those  acts 
of  the  Will  which  were  at  first  exercised  towards  the  more 
prominent  outlines  merely ;  while  others  speedily  disap- 
peared from  the  mind.  And  thus  arose  an  imaginary 
landscape,  glowing  with  a  greater  variety  and  richness 
of  beauty,  more  interesting  and  perfect,  in  every  respect, 
than  we  can  ever  expect  to  find  realized  in  nature. 

^  212.  The  creations  of  imagination  not  entirely  voluntary. 

From  the  explanation  which  has  been  given  of  the  op 
crations  of  the  power  under  consideration,  it  will  be  seen 
that,  in  its  ac  .ion,  it  is  subject  to  limitations  and  restrictions. 
The  opinion,  that  even  persons  of  the  most  ready  and 
fnutful  imagination  can  form  new  imaginary  rreationa 


226  IMAGINATION 

whenever  they  choose,  by  a  mere  volition^  however  wide 
ly  it  may  have  prevailed,  does  not  appear  to  be  well 
foinded.  In  accordance  with  what  may  be  regarded  as 
the  common  opinion,  we  will  suppose,  as  an  illustration 
of  what  we  mean,  that  a  person  wills  to  imagine  a  sea  of 
melted  brass,  or  an  immense  body  of  liquid  matter  which 
ha?  *hat  appearance.  The  very  expressions,  it  will  be 
noticed,  are  nugatory  and  without  meaning,  since  the  sea 
df  brass  which  the  person  wills  to  conceive  of  or  imagine, 
IS,  by  the  very  terms  of  the  proposition,  already  present 
to  his  thoughts.  Whatever  a  person  wills,  or,  rather,  pro- 
fesses to  will  to  imagine,  he  has,  in  fact,  already  imagin- 
ed ;  and,  consequently,  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as 
im-aginations  which  are  exclusively  the  result  of  a  direct 
act  of  the  will.  So  that  the  powers  of  invention,  although 
the  influence  of  the  indirect  and  subordinate  action  of  the 
will  may  be  considerable,  must  be  aroused  and  quickened 
to  their  highest  efforts  in  some  other  way. 

And  this  view  admits  of  some  practical  applications. 
Men  of  the  greatest  minds  (great,  we  mean,  in  the  walks 
of  literature),  are  kept  in  check  by  the  principles  which 
are  involved  in  the  exercise  of  imagination.  Genius, 
whatever  capabilities  we  may  attribute  to  it,  has  its  laws. 
And  it  is  true,  in  regard  to  every  standard  work  of  the 
imagination,  that  it  is  the  result,  not  of  an  arbitrary  and 
unexplainable  exercise  of  that  power,  but  of  a  multitude 
of  circumstances,  prompting  and  regulating  its  action; 
such  as  the  situation  in  life,  early  education,  domestic 
habits,  associates,  reading,  scenery,  religion,  and  the  in- 
fluence of  local  superstitions  and  traditionary  incidents. 
These  are  like  the  rain  and  snnshine  to  the  earth,  without 
which  it  necessarily  remains  in  its  original  barrenness, 
giving  no  signs  of  vivification  and  beauty.  In  the  matter 
of  creative  power,  Bunyan  will  bear  a  comparison,  un- 
<loubtedly,  with  Walter  Scott ;  but  Scott,  in  the  situation 
m  which  he  was  placed,  and  with  the  habits  of  thought 
and  feeling  which  he  cherished,  could  not  have  written 
the  Pilgrim's  Progress ;  nor  could  Bunyan,  on  the  other 
band,  have  written  the  Heart  of  Mid  Lothian ;  not  be- 
cause either  of  them  was  destitute  of  the  requisite  degree 
of  unaginr^tion,  but  because  the  creations  cI  the  'vagina' 


IMAUINATION.  221 

tioii  always  ha\e  i\  relation  to  circumstances,  ind  are  not 
the  result  of  a  purely  arbitrary  act  of  the  will. 

^  213.  Illustration  of  the  statements  of  the  preceJing  section. 

It  would  be  an  easy  matter,  and  not  without  interest, 
to  illustrate  this  fact  in  the  operations  of  the  mind  by  a 
reference  to  the  private  history  of  those  individuals  from 
whom  the  great  works  of  literature  have  originated.  But, 
as  this  does  not  come  within  our  plan,  we  will  refer  merely 
to  a  single  instance. — Moore  relates,  in  his  life  of  Lord 
Byron,  that  on  a  certain  occasion  he  found  him  occupied 
with  the  history  of  Agathon,  a  romance  by  Wieland 
A.nd,  from  some  remarks  made  at  the  time,  he  seems  to 
<De  of  opinion  that  Byron  was  reading  the  work  in  ques- 
tion as  a  means  of  furnishing  suggestions  to,  and  of  quick- 
ening, his  own  imaginative  powers.  He  then  adds,  "  I 
dm  inclined  to  think  it  was  his  practice,  when  engaged 
in  the  composition  of  any  work,  to  excite  his  vein  by  the 
perusal  of  othm-s  on  the  same  subject  or  plan,  from  which 
the  slightest  hint  caught  by  his  imagination,  as  he  read, 
was  sufficient  to  kindle  there  such  a  train  of  thought  as. 
but  for  that  spark,  had  never  been  awakened." 

This  is  said  of  a  distinguished  poet.  Painting  is  an 
art  kindred  with  poetry ;  and  both  are  based  on  the  im- 
agination. Accordingly,  the  remarks  which  have  been 
made  apply  also  to  painting,  and,  indeed,  to  every  other 
art  which  depends  essentially  on  the  imaginative  power. 
"  Invention,"  says  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  "  is  one  of  the 
great  marks  of  genius ;  but,  if  we  consult  experience,  we 
shall  find  that  it  is  by  being  conversant  with  the  inven- 
tions of  others  that  we  learn  to  invent,  as  by  reading  the 
thoughts  of  others  we  learn  to  think.  It  is  in  vain  for 
painters  or  poets  to  endeavour  to  invent  without  materials 
on  which  the  mind  may  work,  and  from  which  invention 
must  originate.  Nothing  can  come  of  nothing.  Homer 
is  supposed  to  have  been  possessed  of  all  the  learning  of 
his  time ;  and  we  are  certain  that  Michael  Angelo  ami 
llaffaelle  were  equally  possessed  of  all  the  knowledge  in 
the  art  which  had  been  discovered  in  tl:  e  w  orks  of  their 
t;redecessors."* 

*  Discourses  before  the  Royal  Ac&demy,  »i. 


228  mAGINATION. 

(,1  214.   On  the  utility  of  ths  faculty  of  the  imagination. 

We  have  proceeded  thus  far  in  endeavouring  to  explaiH 
the  nature  of  imagination ;  and  we  here  turn  aside  from 
this  general  subject,  for  the  purpose  of  remarking  on  the 
iitihty  of  this  power.  And  this  appears  to  be  necessary, 
since  there  are  some  who  seem  disposed  to  prejudice  its 
claims  in  that  respect.  They  warmly  recommend  the 
careful  culture  of  the  memory,  the  judgment,  and  the  rea- 
soning power,  but  look  coldly  and  suspiciously  on  the 
imagination,  and  would  rather  encourage  a  neglect  of  it. 
But  there  is  ground  for  apprehending  that  a  neglect  of 
this  noble  faculty  in  any  person  who  aspires  to  a  full  de- 
velopement  and  growth  of  the  mind,  cannot  be  justified, 
either  by  considerations  drawn  from  the  nature  of  the 
mind  itself,  or  by  the  practical  results  of  such  a  course. 

In  speaking  on  the  utility  of  the  imagination,  it  is  cer- 
tainly a  very  natural  reflection  that  the  Creator  had  some 
desio-n  or  purpose  in  furnishing  men  with  it,  since  we  find 
universally  that  he  does  nothing  in  vain.  And  what  de- 
sign could  he  possibly  have,  if  he  did  not  intend  that  i 
should  be  employed,  that  it  should  be  rendered  active, 
and  trained  up  with  a  suitable  degree  of  culture  ?  But  if 
we  are  thus  forced  upon  the  conclusion  that  this  faculty 
was  designed  to  be  rendered  active,  we  must  further  sup- 
pose that  its  exercise  was  designed  to  promote  some  useful 
purpose.  And  such,  although  it  has  sometimes  been  per- 
verted, has  been  the  general  result. 

Nowhere  is  the  power  of  imagination  seen  to  better 
advantage  than  in  the  Prophets  of'the  Old  Testament. 
If  it  be  said  that  those  venerable  writers  were  inspired,  it 
will  still  remain  true  that  this  was  the  faculty  of  the  mind 
which  inspiration  especially  honoured  by  the  use  which 
was  made  of  it.  And  how  many  monuments  may  every 
civilized  nation  boast  of  in  painting,  architecture,  and 
sculpture,  as  well  as  in  poetry,  where  the  imagination,  in 
contributing  to  the  national  glory,  has,  at  the  same  time, 
contiibuteci  to  the  national  happiness!  Many  an  hour  it 
has  beguiled  by  the  new  situations  it  has  depicted,  and 
the  new  views  of  human  nature  it  has  disclosed ;  inany  a 
pang  of  the  heart  it  has  subducxl,  either  by  introducing  us 
to  greater  w^oes  which  others  have  suffered,  or  by  :ntnxi- 


IMAGINATION.  22b 

ca'iing  the  niemory  with  its  luxuriance  and  luiling  it  into 
a  forgetful iiess  of  ourselves ;  many  a  good  resolution  it 
has  cherished,  and  subtending,  as  it  weie,  a  new  and 
wider  horizon  around  the  intellectual  being,  has  filled  the 
soul  with  higher  conceptions,  and  inspired  it  with  higher 
hopes.  Conscious  of  its  immortal  destiny,  and  struggling 
against  the  bounds  that  limit  it,  the  soul  enters  with  joy 
iiito  those  ii<nv  and  lofty  creations  which  it  is  the  prerog- 
ative of  the  imagination  to  form;  and  they  seem  to  it  a 
congenial  re:i:dence.  Such  are  the  vievrs  which  obviously 
present  themselves  on  the  slightest  consideration  of  this 
subject ;  and  it  if  not  strange,  therefore,  that  we  find  in 
the  writings  of  .lO  less  a  judge  than  Addison,  some  re- 
marks to  t]\'n  ef/ect,  that  a  refined  imagination  "gives  a 
man  a  kind  of  property  in  everything  he  sees,  and  makes 
the  most  ru.lc,  uncultivated  parts  of  nature  administer  to 
his  pleasure!* ;  so  that  he  looks  upon  the  world,  as  it  were, 
in  another  light,  and  discovers  in  it  a  multitude  of  charms 
that  conceal  themselves  from  the  generality  of  mankind.' 

4  215.   ImpMtancc  of  the  imagination  in  connexion  with  reasoning. 

In  remaiking  on  the  subject  of  the  utility  of  the  ima- 
gination, there  is  one  important  point  of  view  in  which  it 
is  capable  ol  being  considered ;  that  of  the  relation  of  the 
imagination  to  the  other  intellectual  pov/ers.  And,  amicng 
other  things,  there  is  obviously  ground  for  the  remark,  that 
a  vigorous  iipd  well-disciplined  imagination  may  be  made 
subservient  to  promptness,  and  clearness,  and  success  in 
reasoning.  The  remark  is  made,  it  will  bo  noticed,  on 
the  supposilion  of  the  imagination  being  well  disciplined, 
which  implies  that  it  is  under  suitable  control ;  otherwise: 
at  will  rather  encumber  and  perplex  than  afford  aid. 

Take,  for  instance,  two  persons,  one  of  whom  has  cul- 
tivated the  reasoning  power  exclusive  of  the  imagination. 
We  will  suppose  him  to  possess  very  deservedly  the  rep- 
utation of  an  able  and  weighty  dialectician;  but  it  will 
be  obvious  to  the  slightest  observation,  that  there  is,  in 
one  respect,  a  defect  and  failure  ;  there  is  an  evident  wan'i 
of  selection  and  vivacity  in  the  details  of  his  ajgument, 
He  cannot  readily  appreciate  the  relation  Vvhich  the  hear- 
er's mind  sustains  to  the  facts  which  he  wishes  to  pre- 

U 


230  nvIAGINATION. 

pent ;  and  dccoidingly,  with  much  expense  of  j5atience  v,p 
their  part,  he  laboriously  and  very  scrupulously  takes  up 
and  examines  eveiything  which  can  couiC  within  his 
grasp,  and  bestows  upon  everything  nearly  an  equal  share 
of  attention.  .  And  hence  it  is,  that  many  persons  who 
are  aiknowiedgcd  to  be  learned,  diligent,  and  even  suo 
jcssful  in  argument,  at  the  same  time  sustain  the  reputa- 
don,  which  is  by  no  means  an  enviable  one,  of  being 
dull,  tiresome,  and  uninteresting. 

Let  us  now  look  a  moment  at  another  person,  who  is 
not  only  a  man  of  great  powers  of  ratiocination,  but  has 
cultivated  his  imagination,  and  has  it  under  prompt  and 
judicious  command.  He  casts  his  eye  rapidly  over  the 
whole  field  of  argument,  however  extensive  it  may  be, 
and  immediately  perceives  what  facts  are  necessary  to  be 
stated  and  what  are  not ;  what  are  of  prominent,  and 
what  of  subordinate  importance  ;  what  will  be  easily  un 
derstood  and  possess  an  interest,  and  what  will  be  diffi- 
cult to  be  appreciated,  and  will  also  lose  its  due  value 
from  a  want  of  attraction.  And  he  does  this  on  the  same 
principles  and  m  virtue  of  the  same  mental  training 
which  enables  the  painter,  architect,  sculptor,  and  poet,  to 
present  the  outlines  of  grand  and  beautiful  creations  in 
their  respective  arts.  There  is  a  suitableness  in  the  dil  • 
ferent  parts  of  the  train  of  reasoning ;  a  correspondence 
of  one  part  to  another ;  a  great  and  combined  effect,  en- 
hanced by  every  suitable  decoration,  and  undiminished 
by  any  misplaced  excrescence,  which  undoubtedly  implies 
a  perfection  of  the  imagination  in  some  degree  kindred 
with  that  which  projected  the  group  of  the  Laocoon, 
crowned  the  hills  of  Greece  w^th  statues  and  temples, 
and  lives  in  the  works  of  renowned  poets.  The  debater, 
who  combines  the  highest  results  of  reasoning  ^\-ith  the 
highest  results  of  the  imagination,  throws  the  light  of  his 
o^\^l  splendid  conceptions  around  the  radiance  of  tmth  ; 
so  that  brightness  shines  in  the  midst  of  brightJiesSj  like 
Ihe  angel  of  the  Apocalypse  in  the  sua. 


riSs'JRDERLD    INTELLECTl  &L    A.TiCN.  231 


CHAPTER  XI\^ 

LlSOaOERED    INTELLECTUAL    ACTION, 
(l  )    EXCITED    CONCEPTIONS    OR    APPARITIONS, 

i  216.  Disordered  intellectual  action  as  connected  with  the  btidy 

tli^A^G  completed  our  examination  of  the  Intellect  so 
fjii-  as  it  presents  itself  to  our  notice  in  its  more  frequent 
and  refViilar  action,  we  now  propose  to  conclude  the  sub- 
ject, by  giving  some  instances  of  intellectual  states  which 
appear  to  take  place  in  violation  of  its  ordinary  princi- 
ples. Whatever  anticipations  we  might  have  been  dis- 
posed to  form  A  PRIORI,  in  relation  to  the  action  of  the 
mind,  it  is  a  matter  abundantly  confirmed  by  painful  expe- 
rience and  observation,  that  its  operations  are  not  always 
uniform ;  and  that,  in  some  cases,  as  we  shall  have  occa- 
sion to  see,  it  exhibits  an  utter  and  disastrous  deviation 
from  the  lawa  which  commonly  regulate  it.  The  causes 
of  these  devio^tions  it  may  not  be  easy  always,  and  in 
all  respects,  to  explain ;  but  it  is  well  understood,  that 
they  are  frequevotly  connected  wiih  an  irregular  and  dis- 
eased condition  of  the  body. 

The  mind,  it  will  be  recollected,  exists  in  the  threefold 
nature  or  threefold  division  of  the  Intellect,  the  Sensibil  - 
ities,  and  the  Will.  The  action  of  the  Will  depends  upori 
the  antecedent  action  of  the  Sensibilities;  and  that  of 
the  sensitive  nature  is  based  upon  the  antecedent  action 
of  the  Intellect.  The  action  of  the  Intellect  or  Under- 
standing is  twofold,  External  and  Internal.  And  we 
have  already  endeavom-ed,  on  a  former  occasion,  to 
show,  that  the  developement  of  the  External  Under- 
standing is  first  in  the  order  of  time,  as  it  is  obviously 
first  in  the  order  of  nature.  It  is  here,  so  far  as  the  mind 
is  concerned,  that  we  find  the  commencement  of  action ; 
but  it  is  well  understood,  and  seems  to  be  entirely  unde- 
niable, that  all  the  action  which  takes  place  here,  takes 
place  in  connexion  with  bodily  action.  The  External  in« 
IcUect  does  not  act,  nor  is  t  capable  of  acting,  although 


232  mSOKDERED    INTELLECTUAL    ACTION 

the  mind  is  so  constituted  that  the  movement  of  all  the 
other  parts  depends  upon  movement  here,  without  the  an- 
tecedent atTection  of  the  outward  or  bodily  senses.  And 
hence  the  intellect  generally,  and  particularly  the  Exter 
iial  intellect,  is  unfavourably  affected,  as  a  general  tiling 
in  connexion  with  a  disordered  state  of  the  bodily  SjS- 
*^cin, 

(   217.   Of  excited  conceptions  and  of  apparitions  in  general. 

The  fact  that  disordered  intellectual  action  is  closely 
connected  with  a  disordered  state  of  the  body,  will  aid, 
m  some  degree,  in  the  explanation  of  the  interesting  sub- 
ject of  EXCITED  CONCEPTIONS  Or  APPARITIONS.  Conceptions, 
the  consideration  of  which  is  to  be  resumed  in  the  pres- 
ent chapter,  are  those  ideas  which  we  have  of  any  absent 
object  of  perception.  In  their  ordinary  form  they  have 
already  been  considered  in  a  former  part  of  this  Work. 
(See  chapter  viii.,  part  i.)  But  they  are  found  to  vary 
in  degree  of  strength ;  and  hence,  when  they  are  at  the 
highest  intensity  of  which  they  are  susceptible,  they  may 
be  denominated  vivified  or  excited  conceptions.  They 
are  otherwise  called,  particularly  when  they  have  their 
origin  in  the  sense  of  sight,  apparitions. 

Apparitions,  therefore,  are  appearances,  which  seem  to 
be  external  and  real,  but  which,  in  truth,  have  merely  an 
interior  or  subjective  existence ;  they  are  mei-ely  vivid  or 
excited  conceptions.  Accordingly,  there  may  be  appari- 
tions, not  only  of  angels  and  departed  spirits,  which  ap- 
pear to  figure  more  largely  in  the  history  of  apparitions 
than  other  objects  of  sight ;  but  of  landscapes,  mountains, 
rivers,  precipices,  festivals,  armies,  funeral  processions, 
temples ;  in  a  word,  of  all  visual  perceptions  which  we 
are  capable  of  recalling. — Although  there  are  excited 
conceptions  both  of  the  hearing  and  the  toucii,  and  some- 
times, though  less  frequently,  of  the  other  senses,  which 
succeed  in  reaching  and  controlling  our  belief  with  unreal 
uitimations,  those  of  the  sight,  in  consequence  of  the 
great  importance  of  that  organ  and  the  frequency  of  the 
deceptions  connected  w^ith  it,  claim  especial  attention 

()  218.   Of  the  less  penranent  exci'ted  conceptions  of  sight. 

Excited   conceptions,  which  are  not  permanen',  biH 


(I.)    FJCCITKL'    COACKPTIONS    oR    API  AKIHONS.  2'3'i 

have  merely  a  momentary,  although  a  distinct  and  real 
existence,  are  not  uncommon.  In  explanation  of  these, 
there  art  two  things  to  be  noticed.— (1.)  They  are  some« 
times  the  result  oi'  the  natural  and  ordinary  exercise  ol 
that  power  of  forming  conceptions,  which  all  person?  pos- 
sess in  a  greater  or  bss  degree.  We  notice  them  partic- 
ularly in  children,  in  whom  the  conceptive  or  imaginative 
power,  so  far  as  it  is  employed  in  giving  existence  to  cre- 
ations that  have  outline  and  form,  is  generally  more  ac- 
tive than  in  later  life.  Children,  it  is  well  known,  are 
almost  constantly  projecting  their  inward  conceptions  into 
outward  space,  and  erecting  the  fanciful  creations  of  the 
mind  amid  the  realities  and  forms  of  matter,  beholding 
houses,  men,  towers,  flocks  of  sheep,  clusters  of  trees,  and 
varieties  of  landscape  in  the  changing  clouds^  iri  tlu^ 
wreathed  and  driven  snow,  in  the  fairy-work  oi  frost, 
and  in  the  embers  and  tlickcriug  flames  of  ihi  hearth. 
This  at  least  was  the  experience  of  the  early  life  of  Cow- 
per,  who  has  made  it  the  subject  of  a  fine  pass-  .ge  in  tlxe 
poem  of  the  Task. 

"Me  oft  has  fane--   ./'licrous  and  wild, 
Soothed  with  c   «'ii'_!ig  dream  of  houses,  towci  , 
Trees,  churches,  o.'..tl  strange  visages  expressed 
In  the  red  cinders,  while,  with  poring  eye, 
I  gazed,  myself  creating  what  I  saw." 

Beattie  too,  after  the  termination  of  a  winter's  storm 
places  his  young  Minstrel  on  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic 
'X)  view  the  heavy  clouds  that  skirt  the  distant  horizon. 

"  Where  mid  the  changeful  scenery  ever  new, 
Ff.ticy  a  thousand  wondrous  forms  descries, 
Morb  w'iidly  great  than  ever  pencil  drew, 
Koclis,  torrent,  gulfs,  and  shapes  of  giant  size. 
And  g^ittsring  cliffs  on  cliffs,  and  tiery  ramparts  rise." 

(11.)  i^.gc.in,  excited  conceptions,  which  are  not  per- 
manent, are  frequently  called  into  existence  in  connexion 
with  some  f.nxiety  and  grief  of  mind,  or  some  other  mod- 
ification of  mental  excitement.  A  person,  for  instance, 
standing  en  the  seashore,  and  anxiously  expecting  the 
approach  of  iiis  vessel,  will  sometimes  see  the  image  of 
!t,  and.  will  be  certain,  for  the  moment,  that  he  has  the 
object  of  his  onticipatior  s  in  view,  although,  in  truth,  theifl 
U2 


234  DiSORI/ERED   INTELLECTUAL    ACTION. 

IS  no  veSvSel  in  sight.  That  is  to  say,  the  conception, 
idea,  or  image  of  the  vessel,  ^vhich  it  is  evidently  in  the 
power  of  ever}'  one  to  form  who  has  previously  seen  one, 
is  rendered  so  intense  by  feelings  of  anxiety,  as  to  be  the 
same  in  effect  as  if  the  real  object  were  present,  and  the 
figure  of  it  were  actually  pictured  on  the  retina. — It  is  in 
connexion  with  this  view  that  we  may  probably  explain 
a  remark  in  the  narrative  of  Mrs.  Howe's  captivity,  who 
in  1775  w^as  taken  prisoner,  together  with  her  seven 
children,  by  the  St.  Francois  Indians.  In  the  course  of 
her  captivity,  she  was  at  a  certain  time  informed  by  the 
Indians  that  two  of  her  children  were  no  more  ;  one  hav- 
ing died  a  natural  death,  and  the  other  being  knocked  on 
the  head.  "  I  did  not  utter  many  Avords,"  says  the  mother, 
*'  but  my  heart  was  sorely  pained  within  me,  and  my 
mind  exceedingly  trouhled  icith  strange  and  auful  ideas, 
[meaning  conceptions,  or  images.]  I  often  imagined,  for 
instance,  that  I  plainly  saw  the  naked  carcasses  of  my 
nhildren  hanging  upon  the  limbs  of  trees,  as  the  Indians 
•are  wont  to  hang  the  raw  hides  of  those  beasts  which 
they  take  in  hunting." 

(j  219.   Of  the  less  permanent  excited  conceptions  of  sound 

In  regard  to  excited  conceptions  of  sound,  (we  may 
remark  incidentally,  as  we  intend  to  confine  ourselves 
chiefly  to  those  of  sight,)  they  are  not,  as  was  seen  in  a 
former  part  of  this  Work,  (§  60,)  so  easily  called  into 
existence,  and  so  vivid,  as  visual  conceptions.  Conse- 
quently, we  have  grounds  for  making  a  distinction,  and  for 
saying  that  only  one  of  the  remarks  made  in  reference 
to  the  less  permanent  excited  conceptions  of  sight  \^ill 
apply  to  those  of  sound.  In  other  words,  excited  con- 
ceptions of  sound  (those  which  appear  and  depart  sud- 
denly, without  any  permanent  inconvenience  to  the  sub- 
ject of  them)  originate  in  connexion  with  a  greater  or 
Jess  degree  of  mental  excitement. — Persons,  for  instance, 
sitting  alone  in  a  room,  are  sometimes  interrupted  by  the 
pupposed  hearing  of  a  voice,  which  calls  to  them.  But, 
m  truth,  it  is  only  their  own  internal  conception  of  that 
particular  sound,  which,  in  consequence  of  some  peculiar 
uiental  state,  happens  at  the  moment  to  be  so  rlistinct,  as 


(I.)    EXCITED   CONCErTj^NS    OR    ArPARITIONS.  Q.V' 

to  «:onti"ol  their  belief  and  impose  itself  upon  ihcni  for  a 
reality.  This  is  probably  the  whole  mystery  of  what 
Boswel]  has  related  as  a  singular  incident  in  the  life  of 
Dr  Johnson,  that  while  at  Oxford  he  distinctly  heard  his 
mother  call  him  by  his  given  name,  although  she  was  at 
the  very  time  in  Litchfield. — The  same  principle  explains 
also  what  is  related  of  Napoleon.  Previously  to  his  Rus- 
sian expedition,  he  was  frequently  discovered  half  recli- 
ned on  a  sofa,  wdiere  he  remained  several  hours,  plunged 
in  profound  meditation.  Sometimes  he  started  up  con- 
vulsively, and  with  an  ejaculation.  Fancying  he  heard 
his  name,  he  would  exclaim.  Who  calls  me  ?  These  are 
the  sounds,  susceptible  of  being  heard  at  any  time  in  the 
desert  air,  which  started  Robinson  Crusoe  from  his  sleep, 
when  there  was  no  one  on  his  solitary  island  but  himself; 

"  The  airy  tongues,  that  syllable  men's  names, 
On  shores,  in  desert  sands,  and  wildernesses."' 

^  220.  First  cause  of  permanently  vivid  conceptions  or  apparitions. 
Morbid  sensibility  ol'  the  retina  of  the  eye. 

We  have  been  led  to  see,  particularly  in  a  former 
chapter,  (§  64,)  as  well  as  in  the  preceding  part  of  this, 
that  our  conceptions  or  renovated  ideas  may  be  so  vivid 
as  to  affect  our  belief  for  a  short  time  hardly  less  power- 
fully than  the  original  perceptions.  But  as  in  the  cases 
referred  to  there  was  not  supposed  to  be  an  unsound  or 
disordered  state  of  the  body,  this  extreme  vividness  of 
conception  was  exceedingly  transitory.  There  are  other 
cases  of  a  comparatively  permanent  character,  which  are 
deserving  of  a  more  particular  notice  in  the  history  of 
our  mental  nature.  These  last  always  imply  a  disor- 
dered state  of  the  body,  which  Ave  were  led  to  see  in  the 
last  chapter  is  often  attended  wdth  very  marked  effects  on 
the  mind. 

Li  attempting  to  give  an  explanation  of  the  origin  of 
permanently  vivid  conceptions,  the  fust  ground  or  cause 
of  them  which  we  shall  notice  is  an  unnatural  and  mor- 
bid sensibility  of  the  retina  of  the  eye,  either  the  whole 
of  the  retina  or  only  a  part.  This  cause,  it  is  true,  is  in 
Rome  degree  conjectural,  in  consequence  of  the  retina 
beino-  so  situated  as  to  render  it  difficult  to  make  it  a  sub* 


^^6  mSORUERED    INTELLECTUAL    ACTION 

fc;ct  of  observation  and  experiment.  But  kn-  wing,  as  w« 
do,  that  the  nervous  system  generally  is  lialiie  to  be  dis- 
eased, and  that  the  disease  of  a  particular  portion  is  com- 
monly productive  of  results  having  relation  to  tho  object 
or  uses  of  that  portion,  we  may  for  this  reason,  as  well  as 
for  what  we  know  directly  and  positively  of  the  cccasion- 
ally  disordered  affections  of  the  optic  nerve,  give  it  a 
place  in  the  explanations  of  the  subject  before  us  In 
order  to  understand  the  applicability  of  this  cause  of  per- 
Euanently  vivid  conceptions  or  apparitions,  it  is  necessary 
to  keep  in  mind,  that,  in  conceptions  of  visible  objects, 
there  is  probably  always  a  slight  sympathetic  affection  of 
the  retina  of  the  eye,  analogous  to  what  exists  when  the 
visible  object  is  actually  present.  In  a  perfectly  healthy 
state  of  the  body,  including  the  organ  of  visual  sense, 
this  affection  of  the  retina  is  of  course  very  slight  But, 
under  the  influence  of  a  morbid  sensibility,  the  mere  con- 
ceptions of  the  mind  may  at  times  impart  such  an  increas- 
ed activity  to  the  whole  or  a  part  of  the  retina,  as  to  giv*> 
existence  to  visual  or  spectral  illusions. 

There  is  an  account  [riven  in  a  foreign  Medical  Journa^. 
(the  Medico-chirurgical  llepertory  of  Piedmont)  of  a 
young  lady,  who  attended  for  the  first  time  the  music  of 
an  orchestra,  with  which  she  was  exceedingly  pleased 
She  continued  to  hear  the  sounds  distinctly  and  in  their 
order  for  weeks  and  months  afterward,  till  her  whole 
system  becoming  disordered  in  consequence  of  it,  she 
died.  Now  we  naUirally  suppose,  in  this  case,  that  the 
nerve  of  the  tympanum  of  the  ear,  which,  both  in  a  physi- 
ological point  of  view  and  in  its  relation  to  the  mind, 
corresponds  to  the  retina  of  the  eye,  continued  actually 
to  vibrate  or  reverberate  with  the  sound,  although  she 
was  no  longer  within  hearing  of  it.  In  other  words,  it 
was  diseased ;  it  had  become  morbidly  sensitive,  and  in 
this  state  was  a  source  of  action  to  itself,  independently 
of  any  outward  cause.  And  as  the  mental  state  or  sensa- 
tion of  sound  depends  upon  the  actual  condition  of  the 
auditory  nerve,  independently  of  the  outward  causes  which 
may  have  been  instrumental  in  producing  that  particular 
condition,  we  see  how  the  sounds,  whi(  h  she  at  first  heard 
for  a  few  hours,  continued  for  a  number  of  months  after 


(f.  ■/    EXCITED    CONCEPTIONS    OR    APFARITIONS.  237 

to  be  geneiated  and  lepeivted. — And  so  in  regard  to  the 
optic  nerve.  It  may  be  so  morbidly  sensitive,  that  the 
mere  conception  of  a  man  or  of  some  other  visible  object 
may  affect  it  as  really  and  in  the  same  way  as  if  the 
man  were  actually  present  to  the  sight.  And  if  so,  the 
individual  who  is  subject  to  this  morbid  affection  has  the 
power  in  himself  of  originating  and  sustaining  tht  repre- 
sentation or  pictures  of  objects,  although  no  such  objt-cts 
are  present.  In  other  words,  as  these  results  depend  upon 
the  state  of  his  physical  system  and  not  upon  volition,  he 
is  properly  said  to  be  subject  to  Apparitions. — We  will 
only  add,  in  confirmation  of  what  has  been  said,  that  in 
one  of  the  most  interesting  cases  of  spectral  illusions  or 
apparitions  which  has  been  published,  the  person  who 
was  the  subject  of  them  expressly  states,  that  for  some 
hours  preceding  their  occurrence  she  had  a  peculiar  feel- 
ing in  the  eyes,  which  was  relieved  as  soon  as  they  had 
passed  away.* 

^221.   Second  cause  of  permanently  excited  conceptions  or  apparition* 
Neglect  of  periodical  blood-letting. 

But  there  are  other  causes  of  the  mental  states  under 
consideration,  which,  in  some  respects  at  least,  are  not  so 
closely  and  exclusively  connected  with  the  eye.  One  is 
the  neglect  of  periodical  blood-letting.  The  doctrine, 
that  permanently  excited  conceptions  or  apparitions  are 
attendant  on  a  superabundance  of  blood,  occasioned  by 
this  neglect,  seems  to  be  illustrated  and  confirmed  by  the 
actual  and  recorded  experience  of  various  individuals,  as 
in  the  following  instance. 

Nicolai,  the  name  of  the  individual  to  whom  the  state- 
ments here  given  relate,  was  an  inhabitant  of  Berlin,  a 
celebrated  bookseller,  and  naturally  a  person  of  a  very 
vivid  imagination.  He  was  neither  an  ignorant  man,  nor* 
superstitious ;  a  fact  which  some  undoubtedly  will  esteem 
it  important  to  know.  The  followang  account  of  the  ap- 
paritions which  appeared  to  him  is  given  in  his  own 
words. — "  My  wife  and  another  person  came  into  my 
apartment  in  the  morning,  in  order  to  console  me,  but  I 
A'as  too  much  agitated  by  a  series  of  incidents,  which  had 
"  Brewster's  Natural  Magic,  lettei  iii. 


238  mSORDEREU    INTELLECTUAL    ACTIOM. 

most  powerfully  affected  my  moral  feeling,  to  be  capab.s 
of  attending  to  them.  On  a  sudden  I  perceived,  at  about 
the  distance  of  ten  steps,  a  form  like  that  of  a  deceaseu 
person.  I  pointed  at  it,  asking  my  wife  if  she  did  not  see 
\t  It  was  but  natural  that  she  should  not  see  anything; 
my  question,  therefore,  alarmed  her  very  much,  and  she 
immediately  sent  for  a  physician.  The  phantom  continued 
about  eight  minutes.  I  grew  at  length  more  calm,  and, 
being  extremely  exhausted,  fell  into  a  restless  sleep,  which 
'asted  about  half  an  hour.  The  physician  ascribed  the 
apparition  to  a  violent  mental  emotion,  and  hoped  there 
would  be  no  return ;  but  the  violent  agitation  of  my  mind 
had  in  some  way  disordered  my  nerves,  and  produced 
further  consequences,  which  deserve  a  more  minute  de- 
scription. 

"At  four  in  the  afternoon,  the  foim  which  I  had  seen 
in  the  morning  reappeared.  I  was  by  myself  when  tliis 
happened,  and,  being  rather  uneasy  at  the  incident,  went 
to  ray  wife's  apartment,  but  there  likewise  I  was  persecu- 
ted by  the  apparition,  which,  however,  at  intervals  disap- 
peared, and  always  presented  itself  in  a  standing  posture. 
About  six  o'clock  there  appeared  also  several  walking 
figures,  which  had  no  connexion  with  the  first.  After  the 
first  day  the  form  of  the  deceased  person  no  more  appear- 
ed, but  its  place  was  supplied  with  many  other  phantasms, 
sometimes  representing  acquaintances,  but  mostly  stran- 
gers ;  those  whom  I  knew  were  composed  of  living  and 
deceased  persons,  but  the  number  of  the  latter  was  com- 
paratively small.  I  observed  the  persons  with  whom  I 
daily  conversed  did  not  appear  as  phantasms,  these  repre- 
senting chiefly  persons  who  lived  at  some  distance  from  me. 

"  These  phantasms  seemed  equally  clear  and  distinct  at 
dil  times  and  under  all  circumstances,  both  when  I  was 
by  myself  and  when  I  was  in  company,  as  well  in  the  day 
as  at  night,  and  in  my  own  house  as  'well  as  abroad ; 
they  were,  however,  less  frequent  when  I  was  in  the 
house  of  a  friend,  and  rarely  appeared  to  me  in  the  street. 
When  I  shut  my  eyes,  these  phantasms  would  sometimes 
vanish  entirely,  though  there  were  instances  when  I  be- 
hekl  them  with  my  eyes  closed,  yet,  when  they  disap* 
peared  on  such  occasions,  they  generally  returned  when 


I^L)    EXaXED   COIICEPTIONS   OK   ArPAUlTlCNS.  239 

I  opened  my  eyes.  I  convei-secl  sometimes  A\'ith  my  phy- 
sician and  iny  wife  of  the  phantasms  which  at  the  moment 
surrounde<I  me ;  the)  appeared  more  frequently  walking 
than  at  rest,  nor  were  they  constantly  present.  They  fre- 
quently did  not  come  for  some  time,  but  always  reap- 
peared for  a  longer  or  shorter  period,  either  singly  or  in 
company,  the  latter,  however,  being  most  frequently  tht- 
case.  1  generally  saw  human  forms  of  both  sexes,  but 
they  usually  seemed  not  to  take  the  smallest  notice  of 
♦>ach  other,  moving  as  in  a  market-place,  where  all  are 
eager  to  press  through  the  crowd;  at  times,  how^ever, 
they  seemed  to  be  transacting  business  with  each  other 
I  also  saw,  several  times,  people  on  horseback,  do^s,  and 
birds.  All  these  phantasms  appeared  to  me  in  their  nat- 
m-al  size,  and  as  distinct  as  if  alive,  exhibiting  ditleren 
shades  of  carnation  in  the  uncovered  parts,  as  well  as  dif- 
ferent colours  and  fashions  in  their  dresses,  though  the 
colours  seemed  somewhat  paler  than  in  real  nature.  _  None 
of  the  figures  appeared  particularly  terrible,  comical,  or 
disgusting,  most  of  them  being  of  an  indifferent  shape, 
and  some  presenting  a  pleasing  aspect.  The  longer  these 
phantoms  continued  to  visit  me,  the  more  frequently  did 
they  return,  while,  at  the  same  time,  they  increased  in 
number  about  four  weeks  after  they  had  first  appeared 
I  also  began  to  hear  them  talk ;  these  phantoms  some- 
times conversed  among  themselves,  but  more  frequently 
addressed  their  discourse  to  me ;  their  speeches  w^ere  com- 
monly short,  and  never  of  an  mipleasant  turn.  At  differ- 
ent times  there  appeared  to  me  both  dear  and  sensible 
friends  of  both  sexes,  whose  addresses  tended  to  appease 
my  grief,  which  had  not  yet  wholly  subsided :  their  con- 
solatory speeches  were,  in  general,  addressed  to  me  when 
I  was  alone.  Sometimes,  however,  I  was  accosted  by 
ihese  consoling  friends  while  I  was  engaged  in  company 
and  not  unfrequently  while  real  persons  were  speaking  to 
me.  These  consolatory  addresses  consisted  sometimes  of 
abrupt  phrases,  and  at  otlier  times  they  were  legularljf 
executed." 

^  2-2.  Methods  -'"  relief  adopted  in  this  case. 

These  are  the  leadmg  facts  in  this  case  *io  far  as  the 


'ZiO  DISOKDEKKD    INTEJ.LECTUAL    ACriCt*. 

men  appeaiance  of  the  apparitions  is  concerned.  But  as 
Nicolai,  besides  possessing  no  small  amount  of  acxiuired 
knowledge,  was  a  person  of  a  naturally  philosophic  turn 
of  mind,  Le  was  able  to  detect  and  to  assign  the  true 
cause  of  his  mental  malady. — He  w^as,  it  is  to  be  remem- 
bered, in  the  first  p^ace,  a  person  of  very  vivid  fancy,  and 
hence  his  mind  was  the  more  likely  to  be  affected  by  any 
disease  of  the  body.  A  number  of  years  before  the  oi- 
currences  above  related,  he  had  been  subject  to  a  violent 
vertigo,  which  had  been  cured  by  means  of  leeches ;  ii 
was  his  custom  to  lose  blood  twice  a  year,  but  previously 
to  the  present  attack,  this  evacuation  hixd  been  neglected. 
Supposing,  therefore,  that  a  mental  disorder  might  arise 
from  a  superabundance  of  blood  and  some  irregularity  in 
the  circulation,  he  again  resorted  to  the  application  of 
leeches.  When  the  leeches  were  applied,  no  person  was 
with  him  besides  the  surgeon ;  but,  during  the  operation, 
his  chamber  was  crowded  with  human  phantasms  of  all 
descriptions.  In  the  course  of  a  few  hours,  however,  they 
moved  around  the  chamber  more  slowly;  their  colour 
began  to  fade,  until,  growing  more  and  more  obscure, 
they  at  last  dissolved  into  air,  and  he  ceased  to  be  troubled 
with  them  afterward.* 

^  223.  Third  cause  of  excited  conceptions.     Attacks  of  fever. 

In  violent  attacks  of  fever  there  are  sometimes  excited 
conceptions,  particularly  those  which  have  their  origin  iu 
(he  sense  of  sight,  and  are  known,  by  way  of  distinction, 
under  the  name  of  Apparitions.  The  conceptions  which 
the  sick  person  has,  become  increased  in  vividness,  until 
the  mind,  seeming  to  project  its  own  creations  into  the 
exterior  space,  peoples  the  room  with  living  and  moT  ing 
phantoms.  There  is  a  statement  illustrative  of  this  view 
m  the  fifteenth  volume  of  Nicholson's  Philosophical  Jour- 
nal, a  part  of  which  will  be  here  repeated.  The  fever  in 
this  instance,  of  which  an  account  is  given  by  "the  patient 
himself,  was  of  a  violent  character,  originating  in  some 
deep-seated  inflammation,  and  at  first  affecting  the  mem- 
ory, although  not  permanently. 

■*  Memoir  on  the  appearance  of  Spectres  or  Phantoms  occasioned  bj 
Oipcdse,  with  Psychological  Remarks,  read  by  NicoIai  to  the  Roval  So 
niely  of  Berlin  on  the  28th  of  February,  1799;  as  quoted  by  Hibbcjrt, 
p!    <  ,  ch,  i^ 


(i  )    EXClTErJ    CONCEPTIONS   OR    APPAUITIONS  241 

*»  Being  perfectly  awake,"  says  this  pcrsoaj  "  in  lull 
possession  of  memory,  reason,  and  calmness,  convei'sini> 
with  those  around  me,  and  seeing,  without  difficulty  or 
jnpediment,  every  surrounding  object,  I  was  entertaincxl 
and  delighted  with  a  succession  of  faces,  over  wkich  1 
eiad  no  control,  either  as  to  their  appearance,  continuance 
or  removal. 

"  They  appeared  directly  befoi  e  mo,  one  at  a  time,  very 
suddenly,  yet  not  so  much  so  but  that  a  second  of  tune 
might  be  employed  in  the  emergence  of  each,  as  if 
through  a  cloud  or  mist,  to  its  perfect  clearness.  In  this 
state  each  face  continued  five  or  six  s,  conds,  and  then 
vanished,  by  becoming  gradually  fainter  during  about  two 
seconds,  till  nothing  was  left  but  a  dark  opaque  mist,  in 
which  almost  immediately  afterward  appeared  another 
face.  All  these  faces  were  in  the  highest  degree  interest- 
ing to  me  for  beauiy  of  form,  and  for  the  variety  of  ex- 
pression they  manifested  of  every  great  and  amiable  emo 
tion  of  the  human  mind.  Though  their  attention  was 
mvariably  directed  to  me,  and  none  of  them  seemed  to 
speak,  yet  I  seemed  to  read  the  very  soul  which  gave  an- 
imation to  their  lovely  and  intelligent  countenances.  Ad" 
miration  and  a  sentiment  of  joy  and  affection  when  each 
face  appeared,  and  regret  upon  its  disappearance,  kept  my 
mind  constantly  riveted  to  tke  visions  before  it ;  and  this 
'siide  was  interrupted  only  when  an  intercourse  with  the 
jiersons  in  the  room  was  proposed  or  urged,"  &c. — The  a}> 
paritions  which  this  person  experienced  were  not  limited  to 
phantasms  of  the  human  countenance  ;  he  also  saw  phan- 
tasms of  books,  and  of  parchment  and  papers  contain- 
ing  printed  matter.  Nor  were  these  effects  exclusive- 
5y  confined  to  ideas  received  from  the  sense  of  sight ;  at 
one  time  he  seem^ed  to  himself  to  hear  musical  sounds. 
'Hiat  is,  his  conceptions  of  sound  were  so  exceedingly 
vivid,  it  was  in  effect  the  same  as  if  he  had  really  heard 
melodious  voices  and  instruments 

(J  "Vii.  Fourth  cause  of  apparitions  and  other  excited  conccjitions.      Irj 
flammation  of  the  brain. 

Apparitions,  and  excited  conceptions  m  general,  exist, 
D  the  fourth  i)l^e,  in  coni»equen<e  of  inflammations  and 

X 


242  DISORDERED    INTEI  I  ECTIJAL    ACTION 

oth«  diseases  of  the  brain. — We  may  infer,  from  certuui 
passages  which  are  found  in  his  writings,  that  Shakspeare 
had  some  correct  notions  of  the  influence  of  a  disordered 
condition  of  the  brain  on  the  mental  operations.  "We  al- 
lude, among  others,  to  the  passage  where,  in  explanation 
of  the  apparition  of  the  dagger  which  appeared  to  Mac 
both,  he  says, 

"  A  dagger  of  the  mind,  a  false  creation, 
Proceeding  from  the  heat-oppressed  brain." 

Whether  the  seat,  or  appropriate  and  peculiar  residence 
of  the  soul,  be  in  the  brain  or  not,  it  seems  to  be  certain, 
that  this  part  of  the  bodily  system  is  connected,  in  a  very 
intimate  and  high  degree,  with  the  exercises  of  the  mind; 
particularly  with  perception  and  volition.  Whenever 
therefore,  the  brain  is  disordered,  whether  by  a  contusion 
or  by  a  removal  of  part  of  it,  by  inflammation  or  in  oth- 
er ways,  the  mind  will  in  general  be  affected  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree. — It  may  indeed  be  said,  that  the  immedi- 
ate connexion,  in  the  cases  which  we  now  have  reference 
to,  is  not  between  the  mind  and  the  substance  of  the 
brain,  but  betw^een  the  mind  and  the  blood  which  is 
thrown  into  that  part  of  the  system.  It  is,  no  doubt,  some- 
thing in  favour  of  this  notion,  that  so  large  a  portion  of 
the  sanguineous  fluid  flnds  a  circulation  there ;  it  being  a 
common  idea  among  anatomists,  that  at  least  one  tenth 
of  all  the  blood  is  immediately  sent  from  the  heart  into 
the  brain,  although  the  latter  is  m  weight  only  about  the 
fortieth  part  of  the  whole  body.  It  is  to  be  considered 
also,  that  the  effects  which  are  wrought  upon  the  mind 
by  the  nitrous  oxide  and  the  febrile  miasma  gas  are  caus- 
ed by  an  intermediate  influence  on  the  blood.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  may  be  said  that  there  cannot  be  a  great  ac- 
celeration of  the  blood's  motion  or  increase  of  its  volume, 
without  a  very  sensible  effect  on  the  cersbral  substance. 
And,  therefore,  it  may  remain  true,  that  very  much  may 
be  justly  attributed  to  the  increase  of  quantity  and  motion 
in  the  blood,  and  still  the  brain  be  the  proximate  cause  cl 
alterations  in  the  states  of  the  mind. 

<>  22.5.  Facts  having  relation  to  the  4th  cause  of  excited  conceptions. 

But  here  we  stand  in  need  of  f?cts,  as  in  all  other  paita 


(^1.)    EXClXt.IJ    CONCEPTIONS   OR    if  rP  AitlTlON'J.  '^■i^.i 

of  this  investigation.  The  following  statement,  selected 
from  a  number  of  others  not  less  authenticated,  can  be 
leliecl  on.* — A  citizen  of  Kingston-on-Hull  had  a  quar- 
rel with  a  drunken  soldier,  who  attempted  to  enter  his 
house  by  force  at  an  unseasonable  hour.  In  this  struggle 
(he  soldier  drew  his  bayonet,  and,  striking  him  across  tiie 
temples,  divided  the  temporal  artery.  He  had  scarcely  re- 
covered from  the  effects  of  a  great  loss  of  blood  on  this 
occasion,  when  he  undertook  to  accompany  a  friend  in 
his  walking-match  against  time,  in  which  he  went  forty- 
two  miles  in  nine  hours.  He  was  elated  by  his  success, 
and  spent  the  whole  of  the  following  day  in  drinking,  &c. 
The  result  of  these  things  was  an  atfection,  probably 
an  inflammation,  of  the  brain. .  And  the  consequence  of 
this  was  the  existence  of  those  vivid  states  of  mind  which 
are  termed  apparitions.  Accordingly,  our  shopkeeper 
(for  that  was  the  calling  of  this  person)  is  reported  to 
have  seen  articles  of  sale  upon  the  floor,  and  to  have  be- 
held an  armed  soldier  entering  his  shop,  when  there  was 
nothing  seen  by  other  persons  present.  In  a  w^ord,  he 
was  for  some  time  constantly  haunted  by  a  variety  of 
spectres  or  imaginary  appearances  ;  so  much  so,  that  he 
even  found  it  difficult  to  determine  which  were  real  cus- 
tomers and  which  were  mere  phantasms  of  his  own  mind. 
The  remedy  in  this  case  was  blood-letting,  and  some  oth- 
er methods  of  cure  which  are  practised  in  infl.nnmations 
of  the  brain.  The  restoration  of  the  mind  to  a  less  in 
tense  and  more  correct  action  "svas  simultaneous  with  th^il 
of  the  physical  system. 

^  226.  Fifth  cause  of  apparitions.  Hysteria. 
It  is  further  to  be  observed,  that  people  are  not  unfre 
quently  affected  with  apparitions  in  the  paroxysms  of  the 
disease  known  as  hysteria  or  hysterics. — For  the  nature 
of  this  disease,  which  exists  under  a  variety  of  forms,  and 
is  of  a  character  so  peculiar  as  to  preclude  any  adequate 
description  in  the  narrow^  limits  we  could  properly  allot 
to  it,  the  leader  is  referred  to  such  books  as  treat  of  med- 
ical subjects.  This  singular  disease  powerfully  agitate? 
the  mind  ;  and  its  effects  are  as  various  as  they  are  stii- 
*  See  tlio  EJiuburgli  Mcdi'al  and  Surgical  Journal,  \iA.  vi.,  p.  •Sg 


244  DlbOKDKEEU    INTELLECTUAL    ACTION. 

king.  Wlien  the  convulsive  affections  come  on,  Uie  pa« 
tient  is  observed  to  laugh  and  cry  alternately,  and  alto- 
gether without  any  cause  of  a  rational  or  moral  nature  j 
so  that  he  has  almost  the  appearance  of  fatuity,  or  of  be- 
ing delirious.  But  apparitions  or  intensely  vivid  concep- 
tions are  among  its  most  striking  attendants.  The  sub- 
'ects  of  it  distinctly  see  every  description  of  forms ;  trees, 
houses,  men,  women,  dogs,  and  other  inferior  animals, 
balls  of  fire,  celestial  beings,  &c.  We  can,  without  doubt, 
safely  refer  to  the  experience  of  those  who  have  been 
much  conversant  with  instances  of  this  disease,  in  confir- 
mation of  this. 

The  existence  of  the  slates  of  mind  under  considera- 
tion might,  without  much,  question,  be  found,  on  further 
examination,  to  connect  itself  with  other  forms  of  disease 
The  subject  is  certainly  worthy,  whether  considered  in 
relation  to  science  or  to  human  happiness,  of  such  further 
devclopements  as  it  is  capable  of  receiving. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

KISOKDERED    INTELLECTUAL   ACTION. 

(ll.)    INSANITY. 

^  227.  Meaning  of  the  term  insanity. 

In  illustration  of  the  general  subject  of  disordered  in  ■ 
lellectual  action,  we  proceed,  in  the  next  place,  to  the 
consideration  of  that  more  decided  internal  mental  de- 
rangement which  is  known  as  insanity.  The  term  Insan- 
ity, etymologically  considered,  indicates  simply  a  want  of 
&.-)undness  or  want  of  health.  In  its  a]i})lication  to  the 
mind,  it  indicates  an  unsound  or  disordered  state  of  the 
mental  action ;  generally,  however,  of  a  more  decided 
and  deeply  seated  nature  than  that  form  of  disordered  in- 
tellect which  has  already  been  considered  under  the  hearl 

of  APPARITIONS. 

As  the  mind  is  complicated  in  its  structure,  existing,  as 
\  were,  in  various  departments  and  subd- visions  of  depart- 


(n.)  iN'sANiTV.  245 

ments,  the  disordered  action,  which  wc  now  projiose  to 
consider,  may  pervade  either  the  whole  mind,  or  exist  eX' 
ehisively  in  some  one  of  its  departments.  Accordingly, 
Insanity  may  be  regarded  either  as  partial  cr  total ;  in- 
volving either  the  whole  mind,  or  only  a  part.  The 
method  which  we  propose  to  pursue  in  the  investigation 
of  the  subject,  is  to  consider  it  in  connexion  with  the 
})Owers  of  the  mind  separately,  as  affording,  on  the  whole, 
the  most  satisfactory  view.  And  it  is  proper  to  add  here, 
tliat  we  examine  it  at  present  only  so  far  as  it  may  nat- 
urally be  supposed  to  exist  in  connexion  with  the  Intel- 
lect, leaving  the  consideration  of  it,  as  it  is  occasionally 
found  to  exist  in  the  Sensibilities,  to  a  more  appropriate 
place. 

()  22S.  Of  disordered  or  alienated  sensations. 

Beginning  with  the  External  Intellect,  the  power  which 
jfirst  presents  itself  to  our  notice  is  Sensation.  It  is  well 
known  that  all  the  outward  senses  are  liable  to  be  disor- 
dered, and,  as  the  inward  sensation  corresponds  to  the 
condition  of  the  outward  or  bodily  organ,  a  disordered  or 
irregular  movement  of  the  organ  of  sense  necessarily  com- 
municates itself  to  the  inward  or  mental  state.  A  regular 
or  healthy  sensation  always  has  reference  to  some  out- 
ward cause,  (we  mean  here  outward,  even  in  refeience  to 
the  organ  of  sense,)  but  a  disease  in  the  bodily  organ  dis- 
turbs this  relation,  and  necessarily  gives  to  the  inward 
mental  state  the  character,  as  compared  with  other  sensa- 
tions, of  being  unreal,  visionary,  and  deceptive.  Not  un- 
real and  deceptive  in  itself,  but  because  it  intimates  a  re- 
lation which  is  obliterated,  and  tends  to  force  upon  oui' 
belief  an  outward  cause  which  has  no  existence. 

There  are  diseased  or  disordered  visual  sensations,  ex- 
isting in  connexion  ^\^th  a  morbid  condition  of  the  visual 
organ ;  but  as  this  view  of  the  subject  wa^  necessarily  in- 
volved, in  some  degree,  in  what  has  already  been  said  or. 
the  subject  of  excited  conceptions  or  Apparitions,  it  is  not 
necessary  to  enlarge  upon  it  here.  There  are  also  diseas- 
ed or  disordered  sensations  of  touch.  A  single  instance, 
out  of  multitudes  like  it,  will  serve  both  to  illustrate  and 
to  confirm  the  remark.  In  the  Natural  Mfgic  cf  Dr 
X  2 


24C^  DISORDERED   INTELLECTUAL   ACTION. 

Brewster  is  an  account  of  a  lady  (the  case  which  we  have 
already  had  occasion  to  refer  to)  who  was  subject  to  spec- 
tral illusions,  of  whom  it  is  expressly  said,  in  connexion 
with  her  remarkable  mental  affections,  that  she  possesses 
"  a  naturally  morbid  imagination,  so  strongly  affecting 
her  corporeal  impressions,  that  the  story  of  any  person 
having  suffered  severe  pain  by  accident  or  otherwise  will 
•occasionally  produce  acute  twinges  in  the  corresponding 
part  of  her  person.  An  account,  for  instance,  of  the  am- 
putation of  an  arm,  will  produce  an  instantaneous  and  se 
vere  sense  of  pain  in  her  own  arm."  There  are  also  (and 
we  might  apply  the  statement  to  all  the  senses  without 
exception)  diseased  or  disordered  sensations  of  hearing 
The  celebrated  Mendelsohn  was  frequently  subject  to  the 
attacks  of  a  violent  species  of  catalepsis.  And  it  hap- 
pened, if  he  had  recently  heard  any  lively  conversation, 
a  loud  voice  apparently  repeated  to  him,  while  in  the  fit, 
the  particular  words,  which  had  been  distinguished  from 
others  by  being  pronounced  with  an  emphatic  and  raised 
tone  of  voice,  and  "  in  such  a  manner  that  his  ear  rever- 
berated with  the  sound." 

^  229.  Of  disordered  or  alienated  external  perception. 

We  naturally  proceed  from  sensation  to  a  power  closely 
connected  with  it,  that  of  External  Perception.  Indeed, 
what  has  been  said  of  sensation  will  apply,  in  a  consider- 
able degree,  to  the  last-mentioned  power,  because  sensa- 
tion naturally  precedes  perception,  and  is  always  involved 
in  it.  But  perception,  while  it  involves  sensation,  implies 
also  something  more,  something  additional ;  it  involves 
ihe  reference  of  the  inward  mental  state  to  the  outward 
cause  or  object,  and  not  unfrequently  implies  also  acts  of 
comparison,  by  which  it  distinguishes  one  cause  from  an 
other.  And  particularly  is  this  the  case  in  respect  to  those 
perceptions  which  are  designated  as  acquired  perceptions, 
m  order  to  distinguish  them  from  original.  So  that,  in 
view  of  what  has  been  said,  it  would  seem  to  be  the  fact, 
in  the  first  place,  that,  when  our  sensations  are  disorder- 
ed, our  perceptions  will  be  so  likewise.  But  this  is  not 
all.  In  consequence  of  some  interior  cause,  such  as  an 
inability  to  a) tend  to  a  thing  for  any  /ength  of  time,  or 


(ll.)    INSANITY.  247 

..iicapauty  of  instituting  comparisons,  disordered  and  false 
external  perceptions  wall  sometimes  exist  when  there  ap- 
pears to  be  no  unsoundness  in  the  sensations. 

Agreeably  to  these  views,  we  find  that  persons,  in  whom 
the  power  of  external  perception  is  disordered  from  the 
first  of  the  two  causes  just  referred  to,  sometimes  have 
perceptions  of  colour  which  do  not  accord  with  those  of 
mankind  generally,  being  entirely  unable,  for  instance,  to 
distinguish  blue  from  green.  Other  persons,  again,  have 
no  distinct  perception  of  minute  sounds,  and  take  no  more 
pleasure  in  the  harmonies  of  a  musical  composition  of 
ti'uly  great  merit,  than  they  do  in  the  most  discordant 
screams.  When  the  disordered  action  of  the  perceptive 
power  originates  from  the  second  cause,  the  subjects  of  it 
are  apt  to  confoimd  times,  persons,  and  places.  They 
mistake,  for  instance,  their  friends  and  relations  for  oth- 
ers, and  are  at  a  loss  as  to  the  place  where  they  are,  al- 
though they  may  have  been  in  it  hundreds  of  times  before. 
They  exhibit  particularly  this  species  of  alienated  percep- 
tion when  they  attempt  to  read  a  book.  They  no  doubt 
see  the  letters  no  less  than  others,  but  the  action  of  the 
mind,  in  other  respects,  not  being  such  as  to  permit  them 
to  dwell  upon  them,  and  compare  and  combine  them  into 
words,  they  are  unable  to  read ;  it  is,  at  least,  exceedingly 
difficult. 

^  230.  Disordered  state  or  insanity  of  original  suggestion. 

When  we  pass  from  the  External  to  the  Internal  intel- 
lect, from  the  region  of  sensation  and  external  perceptio»» 
to  the  interior  domain  of  Original  Suggestion,  to  the  con- 
victions involved  in  Consciousness,  to  the  important  pow- 
ers of  Relative  Suggestion,  Memory,  and  Reasoning,  wc 
are  introduced,  indeed,  to  a  higher  order  of  mental  action, 
but  w^e  find  no  exemption  from  those  disorders  to  w^hich 
the  hiunan  mind,  in  all  its  great  departments,  is  occasion- 
ally exposed. — ^In  regard  to  Original  Suggestion,  whiclj 
comes  first  in  order,  a  powder  wliich  deals  wath  original 
ideas  and  principles  merely,  without  professing  to  ascer- 
tain the  relations  existing  among  them,  it  must  be  admit- 
ted that  it  does  not  give  so  frequent  and  decided  indica- 
tions of  disordered  action  as  we  find  elsewhere.     NevfT- 


248  DISOUDEREn    INTELLECTUAL    ACTIO?? 

theless,  :his  is  sometimes  the  case.  The  conviction,  foi 
instance,  not  only  that  we  exist,  but  that  we  have  per- 
sonal identity ;  that  we  are  now  what  we  have  been  in 
times  past  in  all  that  constitutes  us  rational  and  account- 
able beings,  is  obviously  essential  to  a  sounrl  mind.  Bm 
this  elementary  and  important  conviction,  which  obviously 
does  not  rest  upon  judgment  nor  the  deductions  of  rea- 
soning, but  upon  the  higher  basis  of  origlxal  suggestion, 
is  sometimes  annulled,  either  in  whole  or  in  part.  To 
tlis  head,  so  far  as  the  conviction  of  the  identity  of  the 
minn  is  concerned,  we  may  refer  the  interesting  case  of 
rhe  Rev.  Simon  Browne,  an  English  clergyman,  who  fully 
believed,  for  many  years  before  his  death,  that  he  had 
entirely  lost  his  rational  part  or  soul,  and  was  the  pos- 
sessor merely  of  a  corporeal  or  animal  life,  such  as  is  pos- 
sessed by  the  brutes.  He  was  a  man  of  marked  ability, 
both  in  conversation  and  writing ;  and  this,  too,  on  all 
subjects  not  connected  with  his  malady,  after  his  partial 
alienation.  But  so  entirely  was  he  convinced  of  the  ab- 
sence, and  of  the  probably  actual  extinction  of  his  soul, 
that,  in  a  valuable  work  which  he  dedicated  to  the  Queen 
of  England,  he  speaks  of  it  in  the  dedication  as  the  woik 
of  one  who  "  was  once  a  man ;  of  some  little  name ;  but 
of  no  worth,  as  his  present  unparalleled  case  makes  but  too 
manifest;  for,  by  the  immediate  hand  of  an  avenging 
God,  his  veiy  thinking  substance  has,  for  more  than  sev 
enteen  years,  been  gradually  wasting  away,  till  it  is  wholly 
perished  out  of  him,  if  it  be  not  utterly  come  to  nothing."* 

ij  231.  Unsoundness  or  insanity  of  consciousness. 

The  basis  of  the  various  convictions  or  judgments  of 
Consciousness,  as  that  term  is  defined  and  illustrated  bj 
Writers,  is  the  antecedent  idea  and  belief  of  personal  iden 
lity.  If  this  last  conviction,  therefore,  be  lost,  as  in  the 
case  mentioned  in  the  last  section,  all  that  is  involved  in 
Consciousness  goes  with  it.  It  is  the  business  of  Con- 
sciousness to  connect  the  acts  of  the  mind  with  the  mind 
itself;  to  consolidate  them,  as  it  were,  into  one.  But  if, 
in  our  full  belief,  our  mind  is  destroyed ;  if  self  or  pei'son- 
fcJity  is  obliterated,  then  it  is  clearly  no  longer  within  the 

*  OonoUy's  Indications  of  In^anily  ch.  s. 


(ll.)    INSANITY  249 

power  of  :onsc'iousness  to  recognise  our  various  acts  ol' 
perception  and  reasoning  as  having  a  home  and  agency 
in  our  own  bosoms.  Self  is  destroyed ;  and  the  nientai 
acts  which  are  appropriate  to  self  are  mere  entities,  floa'.- 
ing  about,  as  it  were,  in  the  vacuities  of  space,  without 
the  possibihty  of  being  assigned  to  any  locahty  or  ascri- 
bed to  any  cause.  The  instance,  therefore,  mentioned  in 
the  preceding  section,  which  may  be  regarded  as  of  a 
mixed  kind,  (that  is  to  say,  showing  a  perplexed  action, 
both  of  Original  Suggestion  and  Consciousness,)  will  serve 
to  illustrate  what  is'said  here. — Another  instance,  not  less 
Btriking,  is  that  of  a  celebrated  watchmaker  of  Paris,  who 
became  insane  during  the  period  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. This  man  believed  that  he  and  some  others  had 
been  beheaded,  but  that  the  heads  were  subsequently  or- 
dered to  be  restored  to  the  original  owners.  Some  mis'  • 
take,  however,  as  the  insane  person  conceived,  was  com- 
mitted in  the  process  of  restoration,  in  consequence  of 
which  he  had  unfortunately  been  furnished  with  the  head 
of  one  of  his  companions  instead  of  his  own.  He  was 
admitted  into  the  hospital  Bicctre,  "where  he. was  con- 
tinually complaining  of  his  misfortune,  and  lamenting  the 
tine  teeth  and  wholesome  breath  he  had  exchanged  fo" 
those  of  very  different  qualities." 

Instances  also  have  probably,  from  time  to  time,  occui 
red,  in  which,  although  the  conviction  of  personality  and 
personal  identity  has  remained,  "et  in  the  fixed  belief  oi' 
ihe  insane  person  the  bond  ol  \)nnexion  between  the 
mind  and  its  powers  has  been  dissolved ;  and  the  memory 
perhaps,  or  the  reasoning,  or  the  imagination,  which  once 
belonged  to  himself,  has  been  transferred  by  some  myste- 
iio;i3  ao-ency  to  an  intellect  more  favoured  than  his  own. 

(   232.  Insanity  of  the  judgment  or  relative  suggestion. 

Pursuing-  ths  Subject  in  its  connexion  with  the  powers 
iK  the  Intern.'  1  Intellect  in  the  order  in  which  they  prc- 
*cnied  themselves  to  our  notice  in  the  Second  Part  of 
tnis  Division,  and  which  seems  to  be  essentially  the  order 
of  nature,  we  next  proceed  to  Relative  Suggestion.  The 
power  of  Relative  Suggestion,  like  that  of  Original  Sug- 
{vestioniJ*^  exffecdinp:lv  simple  in  its  action,  b^ing  li  wted 


250  bISORDERED    INTELLECTUAL   ACTION. 

to  the  mere  matter  of  perceiving  relations ;  but  it  is  dif« 
ferent  in  this  respect,  that  while  mental  disorder  but  sel- 
dom reaches  original  suggestion,  there  is  scarce])^  an  in- 
stance of  decidedly  disordered  intellect,  in  which  relative 
suggestion  (that  is  to  say,  judgment  in  its  simplest  form) 
is  not  affected  in  a  greater  or  less  degree.  And  this 
seems  to  be  unavoidable.  For  relations  always  imply 
the  existence  of  something  else,  of  other  objects.  And 
if  mistakes,  in  consequence  of  a  wrong  mental  action  in 
other  respects,  exist  in  regard  to  those  other  things,  what- 
ever they  may  be,  they  necessarily  either  annul  or  great- 
/y  perplex  the  results  of  the  power  by  which  such  rela- 
tions are  perceived. — Besides  this,  the  power  in  its  own 
nature,  and  independently  of  perplexities  from  other 
sources,  is  liable  to  be,  and  is  in  fact,  sometimes  disordered. 
But  as  this  subject  is  closely  connected  with  that  of  rea- 
soning, and  as  they  reciprocally  throw  light  upon  each 
other,  we  shall  say  nothing  further  here. 

§  233.  Disordered  or  alienaled  association.     Ligiit-lieadcdiiess 

The  la-ws  of  the  mind,  the  great  principles  wnich  reg- 
ulate its  action,  as  well  as  its  mere  perceptions  or  states, 
may  be  disordered ;  for  instance,  the  law  of  association 
The  irregular  action  of  this  important  principle  of  our  in- 
tellectual nature  is  sometimes  greater,  at  others  less. 
There  is  one  of  the  slighter  forms  of  mental  alienation 
from  this  cause,  wdiich  may  be  termed  i.iGHT-HEAnEDXESs  ; 
otherwise  called  by  Pinel,  demence,  and  by  Dr.  Rush, 
ilissociation.  Persons  subject  to  this  mental  disease  are 
sometimes  designated  as  "  flighty,"  "  hair-brained ;"  and 
when  the  indications  of  it  are  pretty  decided,  as  a  "  little 
cracked." — Their  disorder  seems  chiefly  to  consist  in  a 
deiiciency  of  the  ordinary  power  over  associated  ideas. 
Their  thoughts  fly  from  one  subject  to  another  with  great 
rapidity;  and,  consequently,  one  mark  of  this  state  of 
mind  is  great  volubility  of  speech  and  almost  constant 
motion  of  the  body.  This  rapid  succession  of  ideas  and 
attendant  volubility  of  tongue  are  generally  acxompanied 
with  forgetfulness  in  a  greater  or  less  degree.  And  as 
the  subject  of  this  form  of  derangement  is  equally  incapa- 
ble of  cliecking  and  reflecting  upon  b'V^  j^-r°sent  ideas., 


ni.)  iNSAMW  253 

aiid  of  recalling  the  past,  he  constantly  forms  incorrecl 
judgments  of  things.  Another  mark  which  has  been 
given  is  a  diminished  sensibility  to  external  impressions. 

6  231.  Illustrations  of  this  mental  disorder. 

Dr  Rush,  in  his  valuable  work  on  the  Diseases  of  the 
Mind,  has  repeated  the  account  which  an  English  clergy- 
man who  visited  Lavater,  the  physiognomist,  has  given 
of  that  singular  character.  It  accurately  illustrates  this 
mental  disorder. — "  1  was  detained,"  says  he,  "  the  whole 
morning  by  the  strange,  wnld,  eccentric  Lavater,  in  vari- 
ous conversations.  \Vhpn  once  he  is  set  agoing,  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  stopping  him  till  he  runs  himself  out  of 
breath.  He  starts  from  subject  to  subject,  flies  from  book 
to  book,  from  picture  to  picture;  measures  your  nose, 
your  eye,  your  mouth,  with  a  pair  of  compasses ;  poiu-s 
forth  a  torrent  of  physiognomy  upon  you ;  drags  you,  for 
a  proof  of  his  dogma,  to  a  dozen  of  closets,  and  unfolds 
ten  thousand  dramng?  f  but  wnll  not  let  you  open  your 
lips  to  propose  a  diificuHy ;  and  cams  a  solution  down 
your  throat  before  you  have  uttered  half  a  syllable  oi 
your  objection. 

"  He  is  as  meager  as  the  picture  of  famine ;  his  nose 
and  chin  almost  meet.  I  read  him  in  my  turn,  and  found 
iiitle  difficulty  in  discovering,  amid  great  genius,  unaf- 
fected piety,  unbounded  benevolence,  and  moderate  learn- 
ing, much  caprice  and  unsteadiness  ;  a  mind  at  once  as- 
ipiring  by  nature  and  grovelling  through  necessity ;  an 
endless  turn  to  speculation  and  project ;  in  a  word,  a 
'•lever,  flight}^,  good-natured,  necessitous  man." 

6  235.  Of  partial  insanity  or  alienation  of  the  memory. 

Among  other  exhibitions  of  partial  insanity,  using  the 
terms  in  the  manner  already  explained,  we  may  include 
^Mue  of  the  more  striking  instances  of  weakened  and 
flisordered  memory.  Eveiy  other  part  of  the  intellect 
tnay  be  sound  and  regular  in  its  action,  (for  it  will  be  rec- 
ollected that  we  confine  ourselves  here  to  the  disorders 
of  the  INTELLECT,  without  anticipating  those  of  the  Sen- 
Bibilities  and  the  Will,)  the  powers  of  perception,  of  asso- 
ciation, of  imagination,  of  reasoning,  at  least  so  far  as 
they  ?' I  able  to  ao*  independent  (f  the  memory,  while 


252  DISORDERED    INTELLECTUAL    ACTION. 

the  action  of  the  latter  power  is  either  essentially  oLhler- 
ated,  or  is  the  subject  of  strange  and  unaccountable  devi- 
ations. From  the  plan  of  this  work,  we  are  obliged  to 
content  ourselves  with  the  briefest  possible  notices ;  and 
can  therefore  only  refer  to  one  or  two  instances  in  illustra- 
tion of  what  has  been  said.  The  instances  of  weakened 
and  perverted  memory  are  of  three  kinds;  (1.)  those 
vhere  there  is  a  general  prostration,  caused  in  various 
ways,  such  as  grief  and  old  age ;  (2.)  those  where  there 
is  a  sudden  and  entire  prosti'ation  extending  to  particular 
subjects,  or  through  a  pai-ticular  period  of  time,  generally 
caused  by  some  sudden  and  violent  affection  of  the  body ; 
and,  (3.)  those  wdiere  there  is  not  so  much  an  inordinate 
weakness  or  obliteration  of  the  power  under  considera- 
tion, as  a  singularly  perverse  and  irregular  action  of  it. — 
It  is  probably  not  necessary  to  say  anything  of  the  firs< 
class.  Of  the  second  class  is  the  case  mentioned  by  Dr. 
Beattie,  of  a  gentleman  who,  in  consequence  of  a  vio- 
lent blow  on  the  head,  lost  his  knowledge  of  Greek,  but 
did  not  appear  to  have  lost  anything  else.  Another  in- 
stance is  that  mentioned  by  Dr.  Abercrombie,  of  a  lady 
who,  in  consequence  of  a  protracted  illness,  lost  the  recol- 
lection of  a  period  of  about  ten  or  twelve  years ;  but 
spoke  with  perfect  consistency  of  things  as  they  stood 
before  that  time.  Of  the  third  class  is  the  case  of  a  man 
who  always  called  tobacco  a  hogshead ;  and  of  another 
man  who,  when  he  wanted  coals  put  upon  his  fire,  always 
called  for  paper,  and  when  he  Avantcd  paper,  called  for 
coals ;  and  of  another,  who  could  not  be  made  to  undei- 
stand  the  name  of  an  object  if  it  was  spoken  to  him,  but 
understood  it  perfectly  when  it  was  written.  These  three 
cases  will  be  found  more  particularly  detailed  in  Dr.  Ab- 
ercrombie's  Inquiries  into  the  Intellectual  Powers.  A  case 
perhaps  still  more  interesting  is  found  in  Dr.  Conolly-s  In- 
dications of  Insanity,  as  follows : 

"  A  gentleman  of  considerable  attainments,  after  long- 
continued  attention  to  various  subjects,  found  himself  in- 
capable of  writing  Vvhat  he  sat  down  to  write ;  and,  wish- 
ing to  write  a  check,  could  get  no  farther  than  the  firet 
two  words;  he  found  that  he  wrote  what  he  did  not 
menn  lo  write,  but  by  no  effort  could  he  writp  tvhai  he 


(ll.)    IXSANITY.  2-3.1 

intended.  This  impairment  of  his  mcin':^.ry  and  /.ftention 
lasted  about  half  an  hour,  during  which  time  Li  exter- 
nal senses  were  not  impaired,  but  the  only  ideji  which 
he  had  were  such  as  the  imagination  dictated,  without 
0"der  and  without  object.  He  knew  also,  during  this 
lime,  that  when  he  spoke,  the  words  he  uttered  were  no* 
the  words  he  wished  to  utter.  When  he  recovered,  he 
found  that  in  his  attempt  to  write  the  check,  he  /).ad,  in- 
stead of  the  words  'fifty  dollars,  being  one  half  year's 
rate,'  put  down  'fifty  dollars  throuGch  the  salvation  ol 
Bra.' " 

(,  236.  Of  the  power  of  reasoning  in  tlie  partially  insane. 

It  will  be  noticed,  so  far  as  we  have  gone  in  tLe  ex- 
amination of  the  subject  of  insanity,  that  we  have  consid 
ered  the  powers  of  the  mind  separately.  Probably  every 
poM^er  of  the  mind,  but  particularly  those  of  the  in.ellect, 
may  become  more  or  less  disordered.  Having  considered 
sensation,  perception,  original  suggestion,  consciousness, 
judgment,  association,  and  memory,  we  propose,  as  com- 
ing next  in  order,  to  examine  the  subject  in  its  connexion 
with  the  reasoning  power. — In  some  cases  of  insanity 
there  is  a  total  inability  of  reasoning.  There  is  no  pow- 
er of  attention,  no  power  of  comparison,  and,  of  course, 
no  ability-  in  the  mind  to  pass  from  the  premises  of  a?i  ar- 
gument to  the  conclusion.  We  have  already  had  occa- 
sion to  refer  to  the  power  of  relative  suggestion,  by  means 
of  which  comparisons  are  instituted.  Whenever  this  pow- 
er is  disordered  and  fails  to  perform  its  office,  such  is  the 
close  connexion  between  it  and  reasoning,  the  operations 
of  the  latter  are  disturbed  also.  In  such  cases  the  ina- 
bility to  reason  is  total ;  that  is  to  say,  it  extends  to  all 
subjects  alike.  But  it  is  more  frequently  the  case,  thai 
the  alienation  of  reasoning  is  not  so  extensive,  but  exists 
cliicfly  in  relation  to  certain  subjects,  in  respect  to  which 
the  belief  is  affected.  Vv' hen  the  train  of  reasoning  leads 
the  person  within  the  range  of  those  particular  subjects, 
•vi'hatever  they  are,  we  at  once  discover  that  the  intellect 
IS  disordered.  And  this  view  has  led  to  the  common  re- 
mark, which  is  obviously  vrell  founded,  that  the  more 
rommon  fornr.  of  insane  or  alienated  reascm  does  nntf^on 
Y 


254  DISORDKRED     NTELLECTUAL    jXTION 

sist  SO  much  in  the  mode  of  connecting  propositions,  and 
in  the  conchisloi.s  drawn  from  them,  as  in  the  premises. 
The  insane  person  beheves,  for  instance,  that  he  is  a  king 
Accordingly,  he  reasons  correctly  in  requiring  for  himself 
the  homage  suited  to  a  king,  and  in  expressing  dissatisfac- 
tion on  account  of  its  being  withheld ;  but  he  commits 
an  essential  error  in  the  premises,  which  assume  that  he 
actually  possesses  that  station. 

^  237.  Instance  of  the  above  form  of  insanity  of  reasoning. 

We  iiave  an  instance  of  the  form  of  insanity  just  men- 
tioned in  the  character  of  Don  Quixote.     Cervantes  rep- 
resents the  hero  of  his  work  as  having  his  naturally  good 
understanding  perverted  by  the  perusal  of  certain  fool- 
ish, romantic  stories,  falsely  purporting  to  be  a  true  record 
of  knights  and  deeds  of  chivalry.     These  books,  contain- 
ing the  history  of  dwarfs,  giants,  necromancers,  and  other 
preternatural  extravagance,  were  zealously  perused,  until 
the  head  of  Don  Quixote  was  effectually  turned  by  them 
Although  he  was  thus  brought  into  a  state  of  real  men- 
ial derangement,  it  was  limited  to  the  extravagances 
which  have  been  mentioned.     We  are  expressly  inform- 
ed, that,  in  all  his  conversations  and  replies,  he  gave  evi 
^(cnt  proofs  of  a  most  excellent  understanding,  and  never 
'  lost  the  stirrups"   except  on  the  subject  of  chivalry. 
On  this  subject  he  "  was  crazed." — Accordingly,  when 
the  barber  and  curate  visited  him  on  a  certain  occasion, 
the  conversation  happened  to  turn  on  what  are  termed 
reasons  of  state,  and  on  modes  of  administration ;  anfl 
Don  Quixote  spoke  so  well  on  every  topic,  as  to  convince 
them  that  he  was  quite  sound,  and  had  recovered  the 
right  exercise  of  his  judgment.     But  something  being  un- 
advisedly said  about'  the  Turk-ish  war,  the  knight  at  once 
remarked,  with  much  solemnity  and  seriousness,  that  his 
maje.sty  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  issue  a  proclamation, 
i-oramanding  all  the  knights-errant  in  Spain  to  assemble 
y  t  his  court  on  a  certain  day ;  and,  although  not  more, 
thm  half  a  dozen  should  come,  among  these  one  woidd  be 
found  who  u^uli  alone  he  sufficient  to  overthrow  the  ivhole 
Turkish  jwv^fr. 

When  tho  sibject  of  conversation  turned   upon  wai>. 


(ll.)   ESSANITY,  255 

Which  rmcl  s(;  near  a  connexion  with  shields,  and  lances, 
and  al'.  the  associations  of  chivahy,  it  came  within  the 
range  of  his  malady,  and  led  to  tne  absurd  remark  which 
sliowed  at  once  the  unsoundness  of  his  mind,  notwith- 
standing the  sobriety  and  good  sense  which  he  had  jujjt 
before  exhibited. 

^  238.   Partial  mental  alienation  by  means  of  the  imagination. 

Men  of  sensibility  and  genius,  by  giving  way  to  the 
suggestions  of  a  melancholy  imagination,  sometimes  be- 
come mentally  disordered.  Not  that  we  are  authorized 
to  include  these  cases  as  among  the  more  striking  tbrras 
of  insanity ;  they  in  general  attract  but  little  notice,  al- 
though sources  of  exquisite  misery  to  the  subjects  of  them. 
But  such  are  the  extravagant  dreams  in  which  they  in- 
dulge ;  such  are  the  wrong  views  of  the  character  and 
actions  of  men,  which  their  busy  and  melancholy  imagi- 
nations are  apt  to  form,  that  they  cannot  be  reckoned 
persons  of  truly  sound  minds.  These  instances,  which 
are  not  rare,  it  is  difficult  fully  to  describe ;  but  their 
most  distinguishing  traits  will  be  recognised  in  the  follow- 
ing sketch  from  Madame  de  Stael's  Reflections  on  the 
Character  and  Writings  of  Rousseau. 

After  remarking  that  he  discovered  no  sudden  emo- 
tions, but  that  his  feelings  grew  upon  reflection,  and  that 
he  became  impassioned  in  consequence  of  his  own  medi- 
tations, she  adds  as  follows. — "  Sometimes  he  would  part 
with  you  with  all  his  former  affection  ;  but  if  an  expres- 
sion had  escaped  you  which  might  bear  an  unfavourable 
construction,  he  would  recollect  it,  examine  it,  exaggerate 
It,  perhaps  dwell  upon  it  for  a  month,  and  conclude  by  a 
total  breach  with  you.  Hence  it  was  that  there  was 
.scarce  a  possibility  of  undeceiving  him;  for  the  light 
which  broke  in  upon  him  at  once  was  not  sufficient  to 
e^ace  the  wrong  impressions  which  had  taken  place  so 
gradually  in  his  mind.  It  was  extremely  difficult,  too,  to 
continue  long  on  an  intimate  footing  with  him.  A  word, 
a  gesture,  furnished  him  with  matter  of  profound  medita- 
tion; he  connected  the  most  trifling  circumstances  like 
so  many  mathematical  propositions,  and  conceived  hi^ 
conclusions  to  be  supported  bv  the  evidenco  of  dcT:ioiV' 
stration 


256  DISOREEEED    INTKLLLCTUAl,    ACTIOSf. 

"I  believe,"  she  further  remarks,  " that  imaginatiCB 
was  the  strongest  of  his  faculties,  and  that  it  had  almost 
absorbed  all  the  rest.  He  di-camed  rather  than  existed, 
and  the  events  of  his  life  might  be  said  more  properly  to 
have  passed  in  his  mind  than  without  him :  a  mode  of 
being,  one  should  have  thought,  that  ought  to  have  secu- 
red him  from  distrust,  as  it  prevented  him  from  observa- 
tion ;  but  the  truth  was,  it  did  not  hinder  him  from  at- 
tempting to  observe;  it  only  rendered  his  observations  er- 
roneous. That  his  soul  was  tender,  no  one  can  doubt  after 
having  read  his  works;  but  his  imagination  sometimes 
interposed  between  his  reason  and  his  affections,  and  de- 
stroyed their  influence ;  he  appeared  sometimes  void  of 
sensibility ;  but  it  was  because  he  did  not  perceive  ob- 
jects such  as  they  were.  Had  he  seen  them  with  our 
t'yes,  his  heart  v/ould  have  been  m.ore  affected  than  ours  " 

^  239.  Insanity  or  alienation  of  the  power  of  belief. 

The  action  of  the  various  intelleotual  powers  which 
have  been  brought  to  view  in  this  chapter,  terminates  in 
the  causation  or  production  of  Belief  In  regard  to  that 
particular  state  of  the  intellect  which  is  denominated  be- 
lief, it  is  obvious  that,  in  a  sound  mind,  it  has  a  natura. 
and  determinate  relation  to  all  the  various  intellectuaj 
susceptibilities,  both  External  and  Internal.  This  relation 
is  sometimes  disturbed  ;  and  the  belief  exists  in  a  posiiion 
altogether  unsustained  by  the  evidence  which  is  present- 
ed. There  are  three  classes  of  persons  in  whom  this  state 
of  mind,  or,  in  other  words,  the  faculty  or  susceptibility 
of  belief,  if  we  may  be  permitted  so  to  call  it,  appears  to 
be  disordered. — (1.)  The  first  class  are  those  who  seem 
incapable  of  belie\-ing  anything  which  they  are  required 
to  receive  on  the  testimony  of  others  They  must  see  it 
with  their  own  eyes ;  they  must  heai  it,  or  handle  it  for 
themselves  ;  they  must  examine  it  by  square,  rule,  and 
compass.  They  remind  one  of  the  Savage,  who  complain- 
ed, when  something  was  proposed  for  his  belief,  "  that  it 
would  not  believe  for  him."  The  causes  of  this  singular 
mability  are  worthy  of  more  inquiry  than  has  hitheito 
been  expended  upon  them.  When  it  is  veiy  great,  it  is 
B  mark  of  the  approach  or  actual  existence  of  idiocy 


(fl.)    INSANITY  267 

(2  )  There  is  another  class  of  persons,  who  plainly  snovf 
a  derangement  of  this  power  by  their  readiness  to  be- 
lieve everything.  No  matter  how  incongruous  or  improb- 
able a  story  is,  it  is  received  at  once.  They  take  no  note 
of  dates,  characters,  and  circumstances ;  and,  as  they  find 
nothing  too  improbable  to  believe,  they  find  nothing  too 
strange,  marvellous,  and  foolish  to  report.  This  state  of 
mind  is  frequently  an  accompaniment  of  light-headed 
ness. — (3.)  There  are  other  cases,  where  the  alienation  of 
belief  is  not  general,  but  particular.  There  is  nothing  pe- 
culiar and  disordered  in  its  ordinary  action,  but  only  in 
respect  to  particular  facts.  That  is,  certain  propositions, 
which  are  erroneous  and  absurd,  are  received  by  the  dis- 
ordered persons  as  certain ;  and  nothing  can  convince 
them  of  the  contrary.  One  believes  himself  to  be  a  king ; 
another,  that  he  is  the  prophet  Mohammed ;  and  various 
other  absurdities  are  received  by  them  as  undoubtedly 
true.  On  all  other  subjects  they  appear  to  be  rational ; 
but  the  alienation  or  insanity  of  belief  is  evident  as  fvoon 
as  Ihcir  cherished  errors  are  mentionc?(L 


MENTAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

DIVISION  SECOND. 

THE  SENSIBILITIES. 

SENTIIONT  on  SENTIMENTIVE  STATES  OF  THE  MIND, 
SENTIMENTS. 


INTRODUCTION 

CLASSIFICATION    OF    THli    SENSIBILITIES. 
()  tiO.  Reference  to  the  general  division  of  the  whole  mir.d. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  we  proposed,  as  the  hzsis  oi 
Dur  inquiries,  the  general  division  of  the  mind  into  the  In- 
tellect, the  Sensibilities,  and  the  Will.  These  great  de- 
partirents  of  the  mind  are  not  only  generically  distinct ; 
but  the  difference  between  them  is  so  clear  and  marked, 
it  is  surprising  they  should  have  been  so  often  confounded 
together.  They  are  not  only  different  in  their  nature,  a 
fact  which  is  clearly  ascertained  by  Consciousness,  in  its 
cognizance  of  their  respective  acts,  but  are  separated 
from  each  other,  as  all  observation  shows,  by  the  relations 
which  they  respectively  sustain.  The  Intellect  or  Under- 
standing comes  first  in  order,  and  furnishes  the  basis  of 
action  to  the  other  great  departments  of  the  mind.  It  is 
this  portion  of  the  mind  which  we  have  endeavoured  to 
examine,  and  which  we  are  now  about  to  leave  for  the 
purpose  of  advancing  into  departments  of  our  mental  na- 
ture, which,  considered  in  reference  to  the  Intellect,  may 
be  regarded  as  occupying  a  more  remote  and  interior  po- 
sition. 

^241.  The  action  of  the  sensibilities  implies  that  of  the  intellect. 

The  action  of  the  Sensibilities  is  subsequent  in  time  to 
that  of  the  Intellective  nature.  As  a  general  thing,  there 
fs,  and  can  be,  no  movement  of  the  sensibilities ;  no  such 
thing  as  an  emotion,  desire,  or  feeling  of  moral  obligation, 
without  an  antecedent  action  of  the  intellect.  If  we  aie 
pleased  or  displeased,  there  is  necessarily  before  the  mind 
Bome  object  of  pleasure  or  displeasure ;  if  we  exercise  the 
feeling  of  desire,  there  must  necessarily  be  some  object 
desired,  which  is  made  known  to  us  by  an  action  of  the 
intellect.  So  that  if  there  were  no  intellect,  or  if  the  in- 
tellectual powers  were  entrely  dormant  and  inactive, 
there  would  be  no  action  of  the  emotive  part  of  our  na 
luie  and  of  the  passions. 


262  JNTKOIRrfVIUN 

And  we  may  not  only  say,  in  general  teiins,  that  the 
action  of  the  sensibilities  implies  the  antecedent  action  ol' 
the  intellect,  but  may  even  assert  more  specifically,  (ma- 
king allowance  for  those  constitutional  ditferences  which 
pervade  every  part  of  the  mental  structure,)  that  the  ac- 
tivity of  the  sensibilities  will  be  nearly  in  inoportion  to 
that  of  the  intellect.  In  other  words,  on  all  subjects 
which  are  calculated  to  excite  any  interest  at  all,  those 
who  have  the  broadest  and  most  satisfactory  views  will 
be  likely  to  feel  more  intensely  than  others ;  the  sensibil- 
ities expanding  and  exerting  themselves  in  conformity 
with  the  expanded  and  energetic  action  of  the  perceptive 
and  cognitive  powers. 

(}  212.  Division  of  the  sensibiliiies  into  natural  or  palhematic,  and  moral. 

As  we  pass  onward  from  the  percipient  and  cognitive 
nature  to  the  distinct  and  more  remote  region  of  the  emo- 
tions and  passions,  it  seems  proper,  before  we  enter  more 
minutely  into  the  various  inquiries  which  may  be  expect- 
ed to  present  themselves,  to  consider  whether  the  depart- 
ment of  the  Sensibilities  itself  is  not  susceptible  of  being 
resolved  into  some  subordinate  yet  important  divisions 
In  accordance  with  this  suggestion,  our  first  remark  is, 
that  the  Sensibilities,  when  subjected  to  a  careful  exam- 
ination, will  clearly  be  found  to  separate  themselves  into 
the  great  divisions  of  the  Natural  or  Pathematic,  and  the 
Moral.  These  leading  departments  will  be  found  to  run, 
if  we  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  in  two  separate 
channels,  which,  although  they  are,  for  the  most  part, 
parallel  with  each  other,  are,  nevertheless,  essentially  and 
suificiently  distinct ;  each  being  characterized  by  its  own 
attributes  and  by  its  appropriate  results.  Our  examina- 
tion of  the  Sensibilities  will  accordingly  proceed  upou 
the  basis  of  this  division. 

In  reference  to  the  use  of  the  term  Pathematic,  as  ap 
plicable  to  the  states  of  mind  embraced  in  one  of  these 
great  divisions,  it  is  proper  to  observe,  that  it  appears  to 
have  been  formed  from  its  Greek  original,  and  first  used 
by  Sir  James  Mackintosh.  He  repeatedly  speaks  of  that 
part  of  our  nature  which  includes  the  emotions  and  pas  • 
sions,  as  unnamed  ;  and,  in  the  progress  of  his  discussions, 


CI.ASSIFlCAnoN    OF    THK    SENSIBILITIES.  263 

appears  at  times  to  be  embarrassed  for  the  want  of  suit- 
able English  words  to  express  it.  Under  these  circum- 
stances lie  proposes  the  term  in  question,  which,  in  its 
etymological  import,  is  applicable  to  any  state  of  mind 
which  involves  emotion,  desire,  or  passion. 

^  243.  The  moral  and  natural  sensibilities  have  different  objecta. 

The  Natural  and  Moral  Sensibilities  appear  to  take, 
fundamentally,  different  views  of  the  objects  in  respect  to 
ifvhich  they  are  called  into  exercise.  The  one  considers 
objects  chiefly  as  they  have  a  relation  to  ourselves ;  the 
other,  as  they  relate  to  all  possible  existences.  The  0116 
looks  at  things  in  the  aspect  of  their  desirableness ;  the 
other  fixes  its  eye  on  the  sublime  feature  of  their  rectitude. 
The  one  asks  what  is  good  ;  the  other,  what  is  right. 

Obliterate  from  man's  constitution  his  Conscience, 
(what  may  be  called,  if  we  may  be  allowed  the  expres- 
sion, the  moralities  of  his  nature,)  and  you  at  once  strike 
from  the  mind  one  half  of  its  motives  to  action ;  for,  in 
respect  to  everything  which  is  considered  by  us  desirable 
to  be  done,  the  question  always  recurs,  is  it  right  to  be 
done  1  At  one  time,  on  the  supposition  of  an  entire  era- 
sure of  the  moral  sensibilities,  all  his  movements  are  dic- 
tated by  the  suggestions  and  cravings  of  the  appetites 
At  other  times,  he  covets  knowledge,  or  seeks  society,  or 
indulges  in  the  refinements  of  the  arts;  but  it  will  be 
found  in  these  instances,  as  well  as  when  he  is  under  the 
influence  of  the  appetites,  that  pleasure  is  still  his  object, 
and  that  he  is  disappointed  in  not  securing  it.  And  even 
in  his  higher  moods  of  action,  when  raised,  in  some  de- 
gi-ee,  above  the  influence  of  the  subordinate  propensities, 
his  movements  will  always  be  based  on  calculations  of 
interest :  and  although  the  various  suo-gestions  which  in- 
fluence  his  conduct  may  have  an  extensive  range,  they 
will  never  fail  to  revolve  within  the  limits  of  a  circle,  the 
centre  of  which  is  mMSELF.  It  is  his  moral  nature,  and  that 
alopft,  which  places  him  beyond  the  limits  of  this  circle, 
and  t-nablrs  him,  on  suitable  occasions,  to  act  with  exclu  • 
Kjir<»  r«><«rejAce  to  God,  his  fellow-mer,  and  the  universe. 


264  INTKODUCTION 

<5  244.  The  moral  sensibilities  liigher  in  rank  than  the  natur/ii. 

And  such  being  the  objects  of  these  two  great  depart- 
ments of  our  nature,  it  is  not  surprising  that  they  do  not 
hold  the  same  place  in  our  estimation.  There  is  obvi- 
viously  a  sort  of  gradaation  in  the  feelings  of  regard  and 
honour  which  we  attach  to  different  parts  of  the  mind 
We  at  once,  as  it  were  instinctively,  regard  some  as  higher 
than  others.  We  may  not  be  able  alwiys  to  tell  why  it 
is  so ;  but  such  is  the  fact.  We  never  hesitate,  for  in- 
stance, to  assign  a  lower  place  to  the  instincts  than  to  the 
appetites ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  we  always  allot  to  the 
appetites,  in  the  graduation  of  our  regard,  a  place  below 
that  of  the  affections.  And,  entirely  in  accordance  with 
this  general  fact,  we  find  it  to  be  the  case,  that  the  moral 
sensibilities  excite  within  us  higher  sentiments  of  regard ; 
in  other  words,  hold,  in  our  estimation  of  them,  a  higher 
rank  than  the  appetites,  propensities,  and  passions,  which 
constitute  the  leading  divisions  of  our  pathematic  nature. 

The  moral  sensibility  appears  to  occupy,  in  respect  to 
the  other  great  division  of  our  sensitive  nature,  the  posi- 
tion of  a  consultative  and  judicial  power ;  it  not  only 
iitands  above  it,  and  over  it,  in  our  estimation,  but  actu- 
ally is  so,  viz.,  in  the  exercise  of  a  higher  authority;  it 
Veenly  scrutinizes  the  motives  of  action ;  it  compares 
emotion  with  emotion,  desire  with  desire ;  il  sits  a  sort  of 
jirbitress,  holding  the  scales  of  justice,  and  dispensing  such 
decisions  as  are  requisite  for  the  due  regulation  of  the 
empire  of  the  passions. 

^  245.  The  moral  sensibilities  wanting  in  brutes. 

It  will,  perhaps,  throw  additional  light  upon  the  dis- 
nncuon  which  we  assert  to  exist  in  the  Sensibilities,  if  we 
:all  to  recollection  here  that  the  natural  or  pathematic 
sensibilities  exist  in  brute  animals  essentially  the  same  as 
in  man.  Brute  animals  are  susceptible  of  various  emO" 
dons.  They  have  their  instincts,  appetites,  propensities, 
%nd  affections,  the  same  as  human  beings  have,  and,  per 
haps,  even  in  a  higher  degree.  They  rush  with  eagernes;^ 
in  the  pursuit  of  whatever  is  Calculated  to  gratify  their 
appetites,  and  arc  deeply  interested  in  everything  that  is 
addressed  to  the  natural  affections.     Tliey  are  pleased 


CLASSIFICATION    uF    THE    SE.NSIBILIIIES.  265 

eml  ilispleased ;  they  have  their  prepossessions  and  aver- 
sions ;  they  love  and  hate  with  as  much  vehemence,  a' 
least,  as  commonly  characterizes  human  passion. 

But  f  we  look  for  the  other  and  more  elevated  portion 
of  the  sensihilities,  viz.,  the  Moral  Sensibilities,  it  is  not 
there.  And  here,  we  apprehend,  is  the  great  ground  of 
distinction  between  men  and  the  brutes.  The  latter,  as 
well  as  human  beings,  appear  to  understand  what  is  good, 
considered  as  addressed  simply  to  the  natural  affectionis , 
but  man  has  the  higlier  knowledge  of  moral  as  well  as 
of  natural  good.  The  brute,  as  well  as  man,  knows  what 
is  desirable,  considered  in  the  light  of  I'iie  natural  appe- 
tites and  passions ;  but  man  enjoys  the  mfinitcly  higher 
prerogative  of  knowing  what  is  worthy  of  pursuit,  con- 
sidered in  the  light  of  moral  and  conscientious  perceptions 

^  246.   Classification  of  the  natural  sensibilities. 

Begmning,  in  the  examination  of  the  interesting  subject 
before  us,  ^^^th  the  Natural  or  Pathematic  sensibilities,  we 
shall  find  this  portion  of  our  sensitive  nature  resolving  it- 
self into  the  subordinate  divisions  of  the  Emotions  and 
Desires.  These  two  elasaes  of  mental  states  follow  each 
other  in  the  order  in  which  they  have  been  named;  the 
Emotions  first,  which  are  exceedingly  numerous  and  va- 
rious ;  and  then  the  Desires,  embracing,  under  the  latter 
term,  the  Appetites,  Propensities,  and  Affections.  This 
IS  not  only  the  order  in  succession  or  time,  but  it  is  also 
the  order  in  nature. 

In  other  words,  and  stated  more  particularly,  such  is 
the  constitution  of  the  human  mind,  that,  when  we  pass 
from  the  region  of  the  Intellect  to  that  of  the  Sensibilities. 
we  first  find  ourselves  (and  there  is  no  other  possible  po- 
sition which,  in  the  first  instance,  we  can  occupy)  in  the 
\loinain  of  the  emotions.  We  are  at  first  pleased  or  dis- 
oleased,  or  have  some  other  emotion  in  view  of  the  things 
whatever  it  is,  which  has  come  under  the  cognizance  of 
I  he  intellect.  And  emotions,  in  the  ordinary  process  of 
mental  action,  are  followed  by  Desires.  As  we  cannot 
be  pleased  or  displeased  without  some  antecedent  percep- 
tion or  knowledge  of  the  thing  which  we  arc  ])leascd  or 
displeased  with,  so  we  cannot  desire  to  posscs.s  or  avoid 

Z 


iJ66  INTiiODUCTION. 

ftnytli'iLg,  without  having  laid  tlie  foundation  t)f  such  «Iv» 
sire  in  the  existence  of  some  antecedent  emotion.  And 
tliis  is  not  only  the  matter  of  fact  which,  as  the  mind  in 
actaalJy  constituted,  is  presented  to  our  notice,  but  we 
cannot  well  conceive  how  it  could  be  otherwise.  To  de- 
sire a  thing  which  utterly  fails  to  excite  within  us  the 
least  emotion  of  pleasure,  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  solecism 
r)r  absurdity  in  nature ;  in  other  words,  it  seems  to  be  im- 
possible, from  the  natm'e  of  things,  under  any  conceivable 
fircumstances.  At  any  rate,  it  is  not  possible,  as  the  mind 
is  actually  constituted,  whatever  might  have  been  the  fact 
if  the  mind  had  been  constituted  differently. 

^  247.   Classification  of  the  moral  sensibilities. 

If  we  look  at  the  conscientious  or  Moral  sensibilities, 
we  find  that  they  divide  themselves  in  a  manner  entirely 
analogous  to  the  division  w'hich  is  found  to  exist  in  the 
Natui-al.  The  first  class  of  mental  states  which  presents 
itself  to  our  notice  under  this  general  head,  is  that  of 
moral  Emotions ;  corresponding  in  the  place  which  they 
occupy  in  relation  to  the  Intellect,  as  well  as  in  some 
other  respects,  to  the  natural  emotions.  The  moral  emo- 
tions are  followed  by  another  class  of  moral  feelings,  which 
may  be  designated  as  Obligatoiy  feelings,  or  feelings  of 
moral  obligation ;  which  hold  the  same  relation  to  the 
moral  emotions  which  the  Desires  do  to  the  natural  emo- 
tions. If  we  had  not  moral  emotions,  (that  is  to  say,  feel- 
ings of  moral  approval  and  disapproval,)  it  would  not  be 
possible  for  us  to  feel  under  moral  oblio-ation  in  any  case 
whatever ;  the  latter  state  of  the  mmd  being  obviousij 
dependent  on  the  former. — It  will  be  noticed,  that  in  thij 
place  we  scarcely  do  more  than  simply  state  the  fact  of 
this  subordinate  classification,  without  entering  into  manute 
explanations.  The  precise  relation  wdiich  the  two  de- 
partments of  our  moral  nature  sustain  to  each  other  will 
!)e  more  fully  stated  and  clearly  understood,  when,  in  their 
proper  place,  they  come  particularly  under  examination 


THE    SENSIBILITIES. 


PART    FIRST. 
NATURAL  OR  PATIIEMATIC  SEN«lBILlTiiiS. 

NATUKAL    OR    PATHEMATIC    SENTIMENTS. 

CLASS    FIRST. 
EMOTIONS  OR  KMOTIVE  STATES  OF  THE  M.ND 


CHAPTER  1. 


KATURE    OF   THE    EMOTIONS 


^  248.  Wu  have  a  knowledge  of  emotions  by  conscicusresB 

Lv  prosecuting  the  examination  of  the  Sensibilities^  Oi 
accordance  with  the  plan  which  has  been  marked  out  m 
the  Introduction,  we  begin  with  the  Emotions.  It  is,  of 
course,  implied  in  the  arrangement  we  have  made,  which 
assigns  them  a  distinct  place,  that  this  class  of  mental 
states  has  a  nature  and  characteristics  of  its  own,  in  vir- 
tue of  which  they  are  distinguished  from  all  others.  At 
the  same  time,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  it  is  extremely 
difficult  to  explain  by  mere  words  what  that  precise  na- 
tjire  is.  We  do  not  suppose,  indeed,  that  any  one  is  ig- 
norant of  what  is  meant  when  we  have  occasion  to  speak 
of  an  emotion,  whether  it  be  an  emotion  of  melancholy, 
of  cheerfulness,  of  surprise,  or  of  some  other  kind.  But, 
whatever  may  be  the  fact  as  to  our  knowledge,  it  is  un- 
questionable that  we  are  unable  to  give  a  verbal  explana- 
tion of  them,  m  themselves  considered. 

In  this  respect  they  are  like  all  other  states  of  the  mind, 
which  are  truly  sijuple.  The  fact  of  their  entire  simplici- 
ty necessarily  renders  them  undefinable ;  because  a  den- 
nition  implies  a  separation  of  the  thing  defined  into  parts. 
So  that  we  are  dependent  for  a  knowledge  of  the  interi- 
or and  essential  nature  of  emotions,  not  upon  verbal  ex- 
planations and  definitions,  which  are  inadequate  to  the 
communication  of  such  knowledge,  but  upon  Consrious- 
ness.  It  is  a  species  of  knowledge  wlfich  the  soul  re- 
veals to  itself  by  its  own  act,  directly  and  immediately. 
While,  therefore,  we  do  not  profess  to  define  emotions,  in 
any  proper  and  legitimate  sense  of  defining,  we  may 
commend  them  without  impropriety  to  each  one's  xn'^zv- 
nal  examination.  And  certainly  we  may  rely  upon  the 
intimations  which  consciousness,  when  properly  interro- 
gated, can  hardly  fail  to  disclose  in  this  case  as  well  as 
in  others 

Z2 


270  NATURE  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 

i  249.  Tlic  ,.lacc  of  eir.otions,  considered  in  reference  lo  other  mental 
acts 

Although,  in  attempting  to  give  some  idea  of  Emotions, 
we  are  obliged,  for  a  knowledge  of  them,  in  themselvea 
".onsidered,  to  refer  each  one  to  his  own  consciousness, 
we  may  nevertheless  mention  some  circmnstances  which 
throw  an  indirect  light  on  them  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  render 
more  clear  to  our  perception  the  relation  which  they  sus- 
tain to  other  mental  states.  The  first  circumstance  which 
we  propose  to  indicate  has  reference  to  the  position 
which  they  occupy ;  (of  course  it  wnll  be  understood  that 
we  mean  their  position,  not  in  the  material  sense  of  thr 
term,  but  in  time  or  succession.)  It  v,ill  be  found,  on  ex  • 
amination,  to  be  the  fact,  as  we  have  already  had  occa^ 
sion  to  suggest,  that  Em.otior>s  always  occupy  a  place  be- 
tween intellections  or  acts  of  the  intellect  and  the  desires, 
»f  they  are  natural  emotions;  and  between  intellections 
and  feelings  of  moral  obligation,  if  they  are  moral  emo- 
tions. That  thev  are  subseauent  to  intellections,  we  be- 
lieve miist  DC  aounaantiy  clear.  It  is  as  ob%'ious  as  any 
axiom  of  geometrj^  that  we  cannot  have  any  feeling,  any 
emotion,  in  respect  to  that,  whatever  it  is,  which  we  have 
no  knowledge  of. 

In  regard  to  '.he  Desires,  it  is  true,  that,  like  the  emo- 
tions, they  are  subsequent  to  the  perceptive  and  cognitive 
acts ;  but  it  is  well  understood  that  they  are  not  in  imtne- 
dinte  proximity  with  them.  It  is  perfectly  obvious,  that 
no  act  of  perception  or  of  cognition  in  any  shape  can 
lay  the  foundation  for  a  desire,  unless  the  object  of  per- 
ception is  pleasant  to  us ;  in  other  words,  unless  it  excites 
within  us  pleasant  emotions.  For,  whenever  we  speak 
o-f  a  thing  as  pleasant  to  us,  we  certainly  inyolve  the 
fact  that  we  have  pleasant  emotions  in  view  of  it. — Nor, 
furthermore,  can  any  perceptive  or  intellectual  act  lay 
llie  foundation  for  Obligatory  feelings  (that  is  to  say,  feel- 
ings of  moral  obligation)  without  the  intervention  and 
aid  of  moral  emotions.  It  may  be  regarded  as  self-evi- 
dent, that  we  never  could  feel  under  moral  obligation  to 
do  or  not  to  do  a  thing,  unless  the  thing  to  be  dene  or 
not  to  be  done  had  first  excited  w'.thin  us  an  i  motion  of 
approval  or  ilisapproval.     So  that  the  desires,  am^  those 


NATURE    OF    THE    EMOTIONS.  27  i 

feelings  in  the  moral  sensibilities  ^vhich  correspond  to 
thorn,  are  based  upon  emotions,  as  really  as  the  emotions 
are  based  upon  intellections.  In  the  order  of  nature, 
therefore,  emotions  are  found  in  the  place  which  has  now 
been  allotted  them,  and  they  are  found  nowhere  else; 
beini^  always  and  necessarily  posterior  to  a  knowledge  of 
ihe  things  to  which  they  relate ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
sntecedent,  by  an  equally  strict  natural  necessity,  to  the 
other  states  of  mind  which  have  been  mentioned. 

4  ^50.  The  character  of  emotions  changes  so  as  to  conform  to  that  1 1 
perceptions. 

It  is  important  to  unpress  upon  the  recollection,  that 
the  order  of  succession,  in  fact  and  in  nature,  is  precisely 
that  which  has  been  stated,  viz.,  intellections,  em^otions, 
and  desires  in  the  case  of  the  natural  sensibilities,  and 
obligatoiy  feelings  in  the  case  of  the  moral  sensibilities. 
The  two' last  mentioned  being  followed  immediately,  as 
their  natural  results,  by  acts  of  the  will,  which  terminate 
and  complete  the  entire  process  of  mental  action.  But 
as  we  must  take  them  and  examine  them  in  their  order, 
we  say  further,  in  regard  to  the  Emotions,  which  is  the 
topic  before  us  at  present,  that  the  fact  of  their  subse- 
quence to  intellections  and  of  their  being  based  upon 
them  is  confirmed  by  the  circumstance  of  their  always 
changing  or  varying  in  precise  accordance  with  the  per- 
•^jeptive  or  intellective  acts.  If  it  were  otherwise,  (that 
^s  to  say,  if  they  had  any  other  foundation  than  intellect- 
ive acts)  how  does  it  happen  that  these  changes  so  uni 
►ormlv  take  nlace  ? 

We  are  looking,  for  mstance,  on  some  cxienaeo  laiuV' 
scape ;  but  are  so  situated  that  the  view  of  certain  ob- 
jects is  interrupted,  and,  of  course,  the  relations  of  the 
whole  are  disturbed.  At  such  a  time  the  emotions  we 
have  are  far  from  being  pleasant ;  perhaps  they  are  de- 
cidedly impleasant.  But  as  soon  as  our  imperfect  per- 
ceptions are  corrected,  as  soon  as  we  are  able  to  embrace 
the  portions  which  were  previously  thrust  out  of  view, 
and  thus  restore  the  interrupted  proportions  and  harmony 
of  the  whole  scenery,  our  emotions  change  at  once,  and 
we  experience  the  highest  pleasure. — Again,  if  we  look 


5?72  NATURE    OF    THE    EM^rtTTUiNS. 

at  a  painting  which  has  come  fiom  the  hand  of  some 
master  of  hib  art,  we  are  distinctly  conscious  at  nrst  sij^ht 
of  a  pleasing  emotion ;  but  we  examine  it  further,  and 
mane  ourselves  acquainted  with  a  number  of  things  less 
prominent  than  others,  but  still  decidedly  showing  th*» 
skill  of  the  painter,  which  escaped  our  first  view,  and  we 
are  conscious  of  a  distinct  change  in  that  emotion.  It 
;bccomes  more  decided,  more  full,  in  precise  conformity 
w\i\\  the  increased  knowledge  which  we  have  obtained 
uf  the  merit  which  the  picture  a^iually  possesses.  And 
it  is  so,  if  no  unusual  disturbing  influence  is  interposed, 
jn  every  other  case,  showing  not  only  the  intimate  but 
proximate  connexion  between  the  emotions  and  the  intel- 
lective acts,  and  the  dependence  of  the  former  on  the 
latter. 

{}  251.  Emotions  characterized  by  rapidity  and  variety. 

When  we  assert  that  the  position  of  emotions  is  be- 
tween intellections  on  the  one  hand,  and  desires  and 
obligations  on  the  other,  we  imply,  of  course,  that  there  is 
a  real  and  marked  distinction  between  them  and  the  lat- 
ter mental  states.  And  this  distinction  exists.  If  con- 
sciousness gives  us  a  knowledge  of  emotions,  the  same 
consciousness  can  hardly  fail  to  give  a  knowledge  of  the 
mental  states  that  are  subsequent  to  them  ;  and  the  differ- 
ence of  knowledge,  resulting  from  these  different  acts  of 
consciousness,  involves  necessarily  a  difference  in  the 
things  known. 

(i.)  Among  other  things,  if  we  consult  our  conscious- 
ness for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  comparative  na- 
ture of  the  mental  states  in  question,  we  shall  undoubtedly 
be  led  to  notice  that  the  emotions,  as  compared  with  the 
others,  are  generally  more  prompt  and  rapid  in  their  origin, 
as  well  as  more  evanescent.  They  arise  and  depart  on 
the  surface  of  the  mind,  swelling  and  sinking  almost  in- 
stantaneously, like  the  small  waves  and  ripples  that  play 
upon  the  scarcely  agitated  surface  of  a  summer's  lake,  and 
which  have  no  sooner  arrested  the  eye  of  the  beholder  than 
they  are  gone.  The  desires  and  feelings  of  obligation 
not  only  arise  subsequently  and  more  slowly,  but  obvious- 
ly possess  a  greater  tenacity  and  inflexibility  of  nature 


EMOTIONS   OF    BEAUTY.  273 

Wlie^  a  strong  desire  ol  ..  'iocided  senthncnl  ol  .luty  has 
once  entrenched  itself  in  the  soul,  it  is  well  known  that 
11  is  comparatively  difficult  to  dislodge  it. 

(2.)  There  is  another  circumstance  involved  in  the  dis 
linction  between  them.  The  emotions  have  less  unity  in 
kind  ;  in  other  words,  are  more  various.  Desires  and  ol) 
ligations,  although  liable,  like  other  mental  states,  to  be 
niodificd  by  pecidiar  circumstances,  are,  in  themselves 
considered,  always  one  and  the  same.  But  of  emotions 
we  find  many  varieties,  such  as  the  emotions  of  cheerful- 
ness and  joy,  of  melancholy  and  sorrow,  of  shame,  of 
surprise,  astonishment,  and  wonder.  We  have  further- 
more the  emotions,  ditTering  from  all  others,  of  the  ludi- 
f.rous,  the  emotions  of  beauty  and  subhmity,  also  the  mor- 
al emotions  of  approval  and  disapproval,  and  some  others 
— If  the  reader  will  bear  these  statements  in  mind,  taken 
m  connexion  with  some  things  to  be  said  hereafter,  he 
will  feel  less  objection,  than  he  might  otherwise  have  felt, 
to  the  general  and  subordinate  classifications  which  we 
have  thought  ourselves  authorized  to  make.  These  di- 
visions we  hold  to  be  fundamental.  They  are  necessarily 
involved,  as  we  apprehend,  in  a  thorough  and  consistent 
knowledge  of  the  mind.  Important  points,  for  instance, 
in  the  doctrine  of  the  Will,  will  be  found  to  depend  upon 
distinctions  which  are  asserted  to  exist  in  tbij  sensibilities. 
It  is  desirable,  therefore,  that  the  grounds  of  si«cL'  distinc- 
tions should  be  understood,  so  thrt  they  m?y  vol  oaly  be 
above  rejection,  but  above  doubt. 


CHAPTER  11. 

EMOTIONS    OF    EEAJTY. 


()  252.  Characteristics  of  emotions  of  beauty. 

Wk  do  not  profess  to  enter  into  an  examination  ot  eve 
ry  possible  emotion.     They  are  so  various  and  multiplied. 
it  would  be  difficult  to  do  it ;  nor  would  any  important 
objnct  be  answered     Proceeding  on  the  principle  of  se- 


271  EMCTIONS   OF    BEAUTY 

lecting  those  which,  either  in  themselves,  oi  by  reascm  of 
their  relation  to  the  arts  and  to  human  condi'ct,  appear  to 
he  most  interesting  and  impoitant,  we  shall  begin  with 
emotions  of  Beauty. — We  have  already  had  occasioa  to 
remark,  that  all  emotions  are  uiidefinable.  This  remark 
IS  applicable  to  those  under  consideration  as  well  as  oth- 
ers. Of  the  emotions  of  beauty  it  will  be  as  difficult  to 
give  a  definition,  so  as  to  make  them  clearer  to  any  one's 
comprehension  than  they  already  are,  as  to  define  the 
Simple  sensations  of  colour,  sound,  or  taste.  We  find  in 
them,  however,  these  two  marks  or  characteristics. 

(1.)  The  emotion  of  beauty,  in  the  first  place,  is  al- 
ways a  pleasing  one.  We  never  give  the  name  to  one 
which  is  painful,  or  to  any  feeling  of  disgust.  Whenev- 
er, therefore,  we  speak  of  an  emotion  of  beauty,  we  im- 
ply, in  the  use  of  the  terms,  some  degree  of  satisfaction 
or  pleasure.  All  persons,  the  illiterate  as  well  as  the 
scientific,  use  the  phrase  with  this  import. — (2.)  We  nev- 
er speak  of  emotions  of  beauty,  to  whatever  degree  may 
be  our  experience  of  inward  satisfaction,  without  refer- 
ring such  emotions  to  something  external.  The  same 
emotion,  which  is  called  satisfaction  or  delight  of  mind 
v.'hen  it  is  wholly  and  exclusively  internal,  we  find  to  be 
termed  an  emotion  of  beauty  if  we  are  able  to  refer  it  to 
something  without,  and  to  spread  its  charms  around  any 
external  object. 

^  253    Of  what  is  meant  by  beautiful  objects. 

There  are  many  objects  which  excite  the  emotion  of 
tieauty ;  that  is,  when  the  objects  are  presented,  this 
emotion,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  immediately  exists. 
These  objects  we  call  beautiful. — There  are  other  objects 
uhich,  so  far  from  exciting  pleasant  emotions  within  us, 
are  either  indifferent,  or  cause  feelings  of  a  decidedly  op- 
posite character  ;  so  that  we  speak  of  them  as  deformed 
or  disgusting.  If  there  were  no  emotions,  pleasant  or  un- 
[ileasant,  excited  by  either  of  these  classes,  or  if  the  emo- 
tjons  which  they  cause  were  of  Ihe  same  kind,  we  should 
apply  to  them  the  same  epithets.  So  that  the  ground  of 
dislinction,  which,  in  speaking  of  these  different  objects, 
«ve  nev^r  fail  to  make,  appears  to  exist  in  our  own  feel 


EMOTKjNS    of    liEAUTY.  275 

ings.  In  othei  ^  ords,  ^ve  call  an  object  beautiful,  be- 
cause it  excites  within  us  pleasant  emotions,  which,  in  the 
•;ircumstances  of  the  case,  we  cannot  well  ascribe  to  any 
other  cause.  And  when  w^e  prefer  to  say,  in  other  terms, 
rtiit  an  object  has  beauty,  we  ob\nously  mean  the  same 
thing,  viz.,  that  the  object  has  a  trait  or  quality  (perhaps 
we  may  find  it  difficult  to  explain  precisely  what  it  is) 
which  causes  these  emotions. 

J  254.   Of  the  distinction  between  beautiful  and  oilier  objects 

In  view  of  what  has  been  said,  we  may  ventui'e  tr. 
make  two  remarks. — (1.)  Every  beautiful  object  has 
something  in  itself  which  truly  discriminates  it  from  all 
other  objects.  This  something,  this  peculiar  trait,  what- 
ever it  is,  lays  the  foundation  for  those  results  in  the  hu- 
man mind,  which,  on  being  experienced,  authorize  us  to 
speak  of  the  object  as  beautiful.  This  is  clear,  not  only 
from  what,  on  a  careful  examination,  w'e  shall  frequently 
find  in  the  objects  themselves,  but  also  from  the  fact,  that 
the  operations  of  the  mind  always  have  their  appropriate 
causes.  If  the  mind  experiences  a  pleasant  emotion  in 
view  of  a  certain  object,  it  is  because  there  is  something 
in  the  object  which  has  a  determinate  and  permanent  re- 
Jation  to  that  particular  mental  state  which  distinguishes 
it  from  other  objects.  If  it  were  not  for  that  distinctive 
trait  in  the  object,  the  human  mind  is  so  constituted  that 
it  could  not  have  experienced  the  corresponding  emotion 

(II.)  Beautiful  objects  are  distinguished  from  all  others, 
not  only  by  something  in  themselves,  certain  original  and 
mherent  traits  characteristic  of  them,  but  also,  and  per- 
haps still  more,  by  a  superadded  trait,  a  species  of  bor- 
rowed effulgence,  derived  and  reflected  back  from  the 
mind  itself.  When  we  contemplate  a  beautiful  object, 
we  are  pleased  ;  we  are  more  or  less  happy.  We  natu- 
rally connect  this  emotion  of  pleasure  with  the  object 
A'hich  is  its  cause  ;  and  we  have  been  in  the  habit  of  do- 
ing this,  no  doubt  in  most  instances  unconsciously  to  our- 
selves, from  early  life.  The  consequence  is,  the  associa- 
tion between  the  inw^ard  delight  and  the  outward  cause 
becomes  so  strong,  th.tt  we  are  unable  to  separate  them  • 
and  the  objects,  additional  to  their  own  proper  qualities 


276  EMOTIONS   OF    BEAUTY 

appear  tu  be  surrounded,  and  to  beam  OMt  with  an  eifn' 
E;ence  which  comes  from  the  mind. 

^  255.  Grounds  or  occasions  of  emotions  of  bei.uty  varioiii. 

The  next  remark  which  we  have  to  make  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Beauty  is,  that  the  objects  by  which  it  is  occasion- 
ed  ari  not  always  the  same,  but  are  very  various ;  diiier- 
hig  from  each  other  not  only  in  their  general  nature,  but 
also  in  their  subordinate  incidents.  Accordingly,  we  may 
ivi'.h  })ropriety  regard  the  term  beauty  not  so  much  a 
particular  as  a  general  or  common  name,  expressive  of 
numerous  emotions,  which  always  possess  the  characteris- 
tic of  being  pleasant,  and  are  in  every  respect  always  the 
same  in  nature,  but  which  may  differ  from  each  other 
both  in  the  occasions  of  their  origin,  and  also  in  the  de- 
gree or  intensity  in  which  they  exist. 

(I.)  In  regard  to  the  occasions  on  which  they  arise,  we 
may  remark  more  particularly,  that  emotions  of  beauty 
are  felt,  and  frequently  in  a  very  high  degree,  in  the  con- 
templation of  material  objects  that  are  addressed  to  tlie 
sense  of  sight,  such  as  w^oods,  waters,  cultivated  fields, 
and  the  visible  firmament.  We  look  abroad  upon  nature, 
in  the  infinite  variety  of  her  works,  as  she  is  exhibited  in 
the  depths  below  and  in  the  heights  above,  in  her  shells 
and  minerals,  in  her  plants,  and  flowers,  and  trees,  in  her 
waters,  and  her  stars,  and  suns ;  and  we  find  the  mind 
kindling  at  the  sight ;  fountains  of  pleasure  are  suddenly 
opened  witliin  us  ;  and  we  should  do  violence  to  our 
mental  structure  if  we  did  not  pronounce  them  beautiful 

(II.)  Again,  emotions  of  beauty  are  felt  in  the  contem- 
plation of  intellectual  and  moral  objects.  In  other  words, 
mind,  as  well  as  matter,  furnishes  the  occasion  on  which 
they  arise.  Whenever  we  discover  intelligence,  wisdomj 
truth,  honour,  magnanimity,  benevolence,  justice,  or  other 
traits  of  a  mind  acting  as  it  was  created  and  designed  to 
act,  we  have  a  foundation  laid  for  emotions  of  beauty. — « 
The  human  countenance,  considered  merely  as  a  material 
oljject,  and  as  presenting  nothing  more  than  outline  and 
colour,  is  undoubtedly  beautiful ;  but  becomes  more  sc 
when  it  distinctly  indicates  to  us  intelligence  and  Jsinia* 
hility. 


KM07I0XS    OF    BKAtJlT.  27'^ 

nTI.'l  But  emotions  of  beauty  are  not  ex..l\islvely  lim- 
!ied  to  these  occasions.  Feelings,  which  not  only  beaj 
ihe  same  name,  but  are  truly  analogous  in  kind,  exist 
also  on  the  contemplation  of  many  other  things.- -The 
s<!ntinient  or  feeling  of  beauty  exists,  for  instance,  when 
we  are  following  out  a  happy  train  of  reasoning ;  and 
hence  the  mathematician,  who  certainly  hrs  a  delightful 
ieelijig  analogous  to  what  we  experience  m  contempla- 
ting many  works  of  nature,  speaks  of  a  beautiful  theorem. 
— The  connoisseur  in  music  applies  the  term  beautiful  to 
a  favourite  air ;  the  lover  of  poetry  speaks  of  a  beautiful 
song  ;  and  the  painter  discovers  beauty  in  the  design  and 
in  the  colouring  of  his  pictures.  We  also  apply  the  term 
beauty  to  experiments  in  the  different  departments  of 
physics ;  especially  when  the  experiment  is  simple,  and 
results  in  deciding  a  point  which  has  occasioned  doubt 
and  dispute.  We  speak  of  it,  and,  as  we  suppose,  with 
a  degree  of  propriety,  as  a  beautiful  experiment. 

80  that  all  nature,  taking  the  word  in  a  wide  sense,  is 
the  province  of  beauty  ;  the  intellectual  and  the  sensitive, 
as  well  as  the  material  world.  We  do  not,  however, 
mean  by  this  to  descend  into  particulars,  and  to  say  that 
ever^^thing  which  exists  \%^thin  the  range  of  these  depart- 
ments is  beautiful ;  but  merely  that  from  none  of  the 
great  depai'tments  '^f  natm'e  are  the  elements  of  beauty 
excluded. 

^  256.   All  objects  not  equally  fitted  to  cause  these  emotions 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  must  be  evident  that  there 
IS  a  coirespondence  between  the  mind  and  the  outward 
objects  which  are  addressed  to  it. — This  has  already  been 
clearly  seen  in  respect  to  the  sensations  and  external  per- 
ceptions ;  and  it  is  not  less  evident  in  respect  to  that  part 
of  our  nature  which  we  are  now  attending  to.  The  mind, 
and  the  external  world,  and  the  external  circumslances 
ol'  our  situation,  are  reciprocally  suited  to  each  other. 
Hence,  when  we  ascribe  the  quality  of  beauty  to  any  ob- 
ject^ we  have  reference  to  this  mutual  adaptation.  An 
object  is  ordinarily  called  beautiful  when  it  has  agreea- 
ble qualitie' ;  in  other  words,  when  it  is  the  cause  or  an- 
leceAent  of  the  emotion  of  beauty      Howevei  it  nngW 

A  A 


278  emotionj  of  beauty. 

iippeat  I )  otlmr  beings,  it  would  not  have  the  character  oi 
beauty  to  us,  if  there  were  not  a  sort  of  correspondence, 
an  adaptedness  to  each  other,  between  our  mental  consti- 
tution  and  such  outward  object. 

But  no  one  can  be  ignorant  that  not  all  objects  cause 
the  emotions  in  question ;  and  of  those  which  possess  thia 
power,  some  have  it  in  a  greater,  and  some  in  a  less  de- 
gree. This  brings  us  to  a  very  important  inquiry.  It  is 
no  unreasonable  curiosity  which  wishes  to  know,  Why 
Ihe  effect  is  so  limited,  and  why  all  objects  arc  not  em- 
braced in  it  ?  Why  different  objects  cause  the  same  emo- 
tion in  diflerent  degrees  ?  And  why  the  same  objects 
produce  a  diversity  of  emotions  in  different  individuals, 
and  even  in  the  same  individual  at  different  times  ? 

()  257.  A  susceDtibi'.itv  of  emotions  of  beaiitv  an  ultimate  principle  of 
uur  mental  consiicuuui,. 

In  answering  these  questions,  something  must  be  taken 
for  granted ;  there  must  be  some  starling  point,  other- 
wise all  that  can  be  said  will  be  involved  in  inextricable 
confusion.  That  is,  we  must  take  for  granted  that  tlie 
mind  has  an  original  susceptibility  of  such  emotions.  Nor 
can  we  suppose  there  can  be  any  objection  to  a  conces- 
niou  which  is  warranted  by  the  most  general  experience. 
We  all  know  that  we  are  created  with  this  susceptibility^ 
because  we  are  all  conscious  of  having  had  those  emo- 
tions which  are  attributed  to  it.  And  if  we  are  asked 
how  or  why  it  is  that  the  susceptibility  at  the  bottom  of 
these  feelings  exists,  we  can  only  say  that  such  was  the 
will  of  the  Being  who  created  the  mind,  and  that  this  is 
(ine  of  the  original  or  ultimate  elements  of  oui"  natui'& 

Although  the  mind,  therefore,  is  originally  susceptilsl^ 
of  emotions  of  beauty,  as  every  one  knows ;  still  it  is  no 
les  evident,  from  the  general  arrangements  we  behold, 
both  in  physical  •  and  in  intellectual  nature,  that  these 
amotions  have  their  fixed  causes  or  antecedents.  We 
have  seen  that  these  causes  are  not  limited  to  one  class 
o;  kind,  but  are  to  be  found  under  various  circumstances ; 
in  the  exercises  of  reasoning,  in  the  fanciful  creations  of 
poetry,  in  musical  airs,  in  the  expeiiments  of  physics,  in 
the  forms  of  material  existence,  and  the  like,     Perhapa 


EMOTIONS   (F    BEAUTV.  27R 

we  ra<i^  assort,  as  a  general  statement,  (that  is  to  say,  lu 
a  great  number  or  majority  of  cases,)  these  objects  cannot 
be  pres(.nited  to  the  mind,  and  the  mind  be  unmoved  by 
It;  it  contemplates  them,  a,;d  it  necessarily  has  a  feeling 
"»f  delight,  of  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  strength,  which 
authorizes  us  in  characterizing  them  as  beautiful. 

In  asserting  that  this  is  correct  as  a  general  statement^ 
&.  is  implied  that  some  objects  do  not  originally  cause 
tliCse  emotions.  And  hence  we  are  led  to  enter  into  more 
particular  inquiries,  having  reference  to  this  difference,  in 
what  may  be  called,  in  the  phraseology  of  some  recent 
writers,  the  aesthetic  power  of  objects.  Accordingly,  our 
purpose,  in  the  remarks  which  are  to  follow,  is  to  point 
out  some  of  those  objects,  and  forms  and  qualities  of  ob- 
jects, which  seem  from  their  very  nature,  and  in  distinc- 
tion from  other  objects  which  do  not  have  this  power 
.Stted  to  create  within  us  the  feelings  under  consideration 

<5  258.  Remarks  on  the  beauty  of  forms. — The  circle. 

In  making  that  selection  of  those  objects  and  qualities 
of  objects  winch  we  suppose  to  be  fitted,  in  the  original 
constitution  of  things,  to  cause  within  us  pleasing  emo- 
tions of  themselves,  independently  of  any  extraneous  aid, 
we  cannot  profess  to  speak  with  certainty.  The  appeal 
is  to  the  general  experience  of  men ;  and  all  we  can  do 
is  to  give,  so  far  as  it  seems  to  have  been  ascertained,  the 
results  of  that  experience.  Beginning,  therefore,  with 
material  objects,  we  are  justified  by  general  experience 
in  saying  that  certain  dispositions  or  forms  of  matter  are 
beautiful ;  for  instance,  the  circle. 

We  rarely  look  upcn  a  winding  or  serpentine  fornj 
without  experiencing  a  feeling  of  pleasure ;  and  on  see- 
ing a  circle,  this  pleasure  is  heightened.  Hence  Hogarth, 
who,  both  by  his  turn  of  mind  and  by  his  habits  of  life, 
has  claims  to  be  regarded  as  a  judge,  expressly  lays  il 
down  in  his  Analysis  of  Beauty,  that  those  lines  which 
have  most  variety  in  themselves  contribute  most  ton^arda 
the  production  of  beauty;  and  that  the  most  beautiful 
line  by  which  a  surface  can  be  bounded  is  the  waving 
or  serpentine,  or  that  which  constantly,  but  imperceptibly 
deviates  from  the  straight  line.    This,  M'hich  we  frecnent 


280  EMOTIONS    OF    BEAUTY 

Iv  find  in  shells,  flowers,  and  other  pleasinp^  nafuial  p!\ 
ductions,  he  calls  the  line  of  beauty. 

^  259.  Original  or  intrinsic  beauty. — The  circle. 

It  is  necessary,  in  examining  the  subject  of  beauty,  tf 
L'ck  at  it  in  two  points  of  view,  viz.,  as  Intrinsic  and  aa 
Associated.  In  the  remarks  which  we  may  have  occa- 
won  to  make  in  this  chapter,  we  have  reference  exclu- 
fively  to  what  may  be  denominated  Original  or  Intrinsic 
beaury ;  by  w^iich  we  mean  that  w^hich  is  founded  in  the 
nature  of  the  object,  independently  of  accidental  or  merely 
accessory  circumstances. — Accordingly,  it  is  this  form  oi 
beauty  which  we  ascribe  to  the  circle.  Those  objects 
which  are  circular,  or  approach  that  form,  exhibiting  a 
constantly  varying  outline,  have  in  themselves,  and  on 
account  of  this  configuration,  a  degree,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  a  high  degree,  of  beauty.  The  bending  stem  oi^ 
the  tulip,  the  curve  of  the  weeping  w^illow,  the  windings 
of  the  ivy,  the  vine  w^-eathing  itself  around  the  elm,  the 
serpentine  river,  are  highly  pleasing.  The  vast  circulai 
expanse  of  the  visible  sky,  wdien  seen  in  a  cloudless  night, 
is  a  beautiful  object,  independently  of  the  splendour  thai 
is  spread  over  it  by  its  brilliant  troops  of  stars.  The  arcb 
of  the  rainbow,  expanding  its  immense  curve  over  out 
heads,  could  hardly  fail  to  be  regarded  as  an  object  of 
great  beauty,  even  if  nothing  but  the  form  and  outline 
were  presented  to  our  vision,  w^ithout  the  unrivalled  lustre 
of  its  colours.  And  the  same  of  other  instances,  scattered 
in  profusion  through  the  works  of  nature,  but  too  numer- 
ous to  be  mentioned  here. 

{  260.  Of  the  beauty  of  straight  and  angular  forois. 

Although  the  circular  or  constantly  varying  outline  is 
tftought,  more  than  any  other,  to  excite  the  delightful 
f  motions  under  consideration,  we  are  not  to  suppose  thai 
the  power  of  beauty  is  excluded  from  other  forms.  In 
examining  the  works  of  nature,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say  that  we  find  numerous  instances  of  straight  and  an" 
gular  forms,  as  well  as  of  the  serpentine  and  w^inding, 
oUliough  perhaps  less  frequently.  It  can  hardly  be  doubt- 
od    that   these  forms,  as   they  are  operated    upon   and 


TSMOTIONS   OF    BEAT/TY,  28 J 

moulded  in  nature's  hands,  possess  moivi  cr  less  beauty 
It  is  almost  a  matter  of  supererogation  to  attempt  to  il- 
lustrate this  statement  to  those  who  have  a  heart  and  ey« 
open  to  the  great  variety  of  her  works,  which  on  every 
side  are  presented  to  our  notice.  Her  forms,  either  origi- 
nii  or  in  their  combinations,  are  without  number;  and  if 
it  be  true  that  beauty  does  not  claim  a  relationship  with 
all,  it  is  equally  so  that  it  is  not  restricted  to  one,  or  even  a 
enall  portion  of  them.  The  intert^vining  shrubbery,  which 
spreads  itself  abroad  upon  the  ground,  emits,  if  we  may 
be  allowed  the  expression,  its  sparkles  and  gleams  of 
beauty  around  our  feet.  The  elm,  which  rises  upwar' 
towards  the  heavens,  and  forms  its  broad  and  green  arch 
over  our  heads,  is  radiant  with  beauty  also,  although  it  is 
•exceedingly  diverse  in  its  appearance.  We  readily  ad- 
mit, for  we  cannot  well  do  otherwise  without  violence  to 
the  suggestions  of  our  nature,  that  the  curve  of  the  weep- 
ing willow  possesses  beauty.  But,  at  the  same  time,  we 
are  not  prepared  to  assert  that  the  solitary  palm-tree  is 
absolutely  destitute  of  it,  although  it  displays,  as  it  rises 
on  the  bosom  of  the  desert,  nothing  but  a  tall,  straight, 
branchless  trunk,  surmounted  at  the  top,  like  a  Corinthian 
column,  by  a  single  tuft;  of  foliage. 

"  There  are  an  infinite  number  of  the  feebler  vegeta- 
bles," says  Mr.  Alison,  "  and  many  of  the  common  grasses, 
the  forms  of  which  are  altogether  distinguished  by  angles 
and  straight  lines,  and  where  there  is  not  a  single  curva- 
ture through  the  whole  ;  yet  all  of  which  are  beautiful." 
He  ascribes  in  another  place  a  high  degree  of  beauty  to 
the  knotted  and  angular  stem  of  the  balsam.  And  re- 
marks also,  in  regard  to  the  myrtle,  that  it  is  "  generally 
reckoned  a  beautiful  form,  yet  the  growth  of  its  stem  ia 
perpendicular,  the  junctions  of  its  branches  form  regular 
ancl  similar  angles,  and  their  direction  is  in  straight  or  an- 
gular lines." 

ij  261.   Of  square,  pyramidal,  and  triangular  forms. 

The  remarks  of  the  last  section,  going  to  show  that 
beauty  is  not  limited  to  circular  forms,  is  confirmed  by 
what  we  observe  in  the  works  of  art  as  well  as  of  na- 
ture.    The  square,  for  instance,  although  we  do  not  sup 

A  a2 


9S2  EMonoxs  of  beauty 

pose  it  nra;eiits  ^•ery  high  clahns,  comes  in  for  a  share  o! 
notize.  On  account  of  its  practical  convenience,  fjid 
'4lso  for  the  reason  of  its  being  more  entirely  within  the 
reach  of  human  skill  than  some  other  forms,  it  is  frequent- 
ly mtroduced  into  architecture ;  generally  with  a  pleasing 
Btlect,  and  sometimes  with  a  high  degree  of  beauty. 

In  the  Gothic  architecture,  the  pyramidal,  a  form  still 
fu-ther  removed  from  any  relationship  with  the  cii'cle,  has 
a  conspicuous  place,  and  when  properly  combined  with 
other  forms,  gives  a  decided  pleasure.  Hogarth,  in  illus- 
tration of  his  remark,  that  variety  has  a  great  share  in 
producing  beauty,  explicitly  observes,  tliat  the  pyramid, 
which  gradually  diminishes  from  its  basis  to  its  point,  is 
a  beautiful  form.  And  it  is  in  consequence  of  being  so 
regarded  that  we  find  it  so  frequently  employed,  not  only 
ds  a  characteristic  feature  in  the  order  of  architecture  just 
referred  to,  but  in  steeples,  sepulchral  monuments,  and 
other  works  of  art. 

Triangular  forms  also  are  not  without  beauty  Mr. 
Alison  states,  that  the  forms  of  Grecian  and  Roman  fur- 
niture, in  their  periods  of  cultivated  taste,  were  almost  uni- 
versally distinguished  by  straight  or  angular  lines.  What 
is  tliere,  he  inquires,  more  beautiful  than  the  form  of  the 
ancient  tripod  ?  "  The  feet  gradually  lessening  to  the 
end,  and  converging  as  they  approach  it ;  the  plane  of 
the  table  placed,  with  little  ornament,  nearly  at  right  an- 
gles to  the  feet ;  and  the  whole  appearing  to  form  an  im' 
perfect  triangle,  whose  base  is  above.  There  is  scarcely 
ni  such  a  subject  a  possibility  of  contriving  a  more  angu- 
lar form,  yet  tliere  can  be  none  more  completely  beixu- 
thill." 

In  connexion  with  these  .statements,  It  is  pro[)er  to  add 
&  ftingle  explanatory  remark.  We  have  much  reason  to 
oe.iive  that  the  emotion  will  be  stronger  in  all  cases  in 
proportion  as  the  beautiful  object  is  distinctly  and  imme- 
diatoly  embraced  by  the  mind.  It  may  be  asserted,  with 
undoubted  good  reason,  that  the  square  form  has  a  degree 
of  beauty  as  well  as  the  circle,  although  it  is  generally 
conceded  that  it  has  less.  But  it  is  a  matter  of  inquiry, 
vvliether  the  diflerence  in  this  respect  is  owing  so  much 
o  the  original  power  of  the  forms  themselves,  as  to  the  cir 


EMOTIONS    OF    BEAUTY.  283 

curasfaiue  jusl  a.Iuded  to.  In  otlier  words,  \\hethcr  it  be 
not  owing  to  tlie  fact,  that  the  circle,  being  more  simple, 
makes  a  more  direct,  entire,  and  decided  impression; 
whereiis  the  attention  is  divided  among  the  sides  and  an- 
gles of  the  square  and  other  similar  iigmTS. 

<}  262.  Of  the  original  or  intrinsic  beauty  of  colours. 

We  proceed  to  remark,  as  we  advance  in  the  iurther 
consideration  of  this  interesting  subject,  that  we  expe- 
rience emotions  of  beauty  in  beholding  the  colours,  as 
well  au  in  contemplating  the  outlines  or  forms  of  bodies. 
The  doctrine  which  we  hold  is,  that  some  colours  of 
themselves,  independently  of  the  additional  interest  which 
may  subsequently  be  attached  to  them  in  consequence  of 
certain  associations,  are  fitted  to  excite  within  us  those 
feelings  of  pleasure  which  authorize  us  in  this,  as  well  as 
in  other  analogous  cases,  to  speak  of  the  cause  of  them 
as  beautiful.  In  other  words,  there  are  some  colours 
which  possess,  as  we  suppose,  an  original  or  intrinsic 
beauty. — In  support  of  this  opinion,  we  are  merely  able 
to  allude  to  some  of  the  various  considerations  which  nat- 
urally present  themselves,  without  entering  into  that  mi- 
nute exposition  of  them  which  would  be  admissible  in  a 
treatise  professedly  and  exclusively  devoted  to  the  subject 
before  us. 

( 1.)  The  pleasure  which  results  from  the  mere  behold- 
ing of  colours  may  be  observed  in  very  early  life.  It  is 
in  consequence  of  this  pleasing  emotion  that  the  infant 
so  early  directs  its  eyes  towards  the  light  that  breaks  ir. 
from  the  windoy.%  or  which  reaches  the  sense  of  vision, 
from  any  other  source.  It  is  pleasing  to  see  with  what 
evident  ecstasy  the  shild  rushes  from  flower  to  flower, 
and  compares  their  brilliancy.  Casting  his  eyes  abroad 
.'n  the  pursuit  of  objects  that  are  richly  variegated,  he 
causes  to  gaze  with  admiration  on  every  tree  that  is  most 
profusely  loaded  with  blossoms,  or  that  is  burdened  with 
fruit  of  the  (lee])cst  red  and  yellow.  It  is  because  he  is 
attracted  with  the  brightness  of  its  wings  that  he  pur- 
sues the  butterfly  with  a  labour  so  unwearied,  or  sus])ends 
his  sport  to  watch  the  way  vard  movements  of  the  hur; 
ming-bird. 


284  EMOTIONS    OF    BEAUTY 

(2.)  The  same  results  are  found  also,  very  sirlkinglj 
and  generally,  among  all  savage  tribes.  The  sons  of  the 
forest  are  not  so  wl  oily  untutored,  so  wholly  devoid  of 
natural  sensibility,  that  they  will  not  sometimes  forget  the 
ardour  of  the  chase  in  the  contemplation  of  the  llowers 
which  bloom  in  the  neighbourhood  of  their  path.  Seeing 
itow  beautiful  the  fish  of  their  lakes  and  rivers,  the  bird 
of  their  forests,  and  the  forest  tree  itself,  are  rendered  by 
colours,  they  corami;  the  mistake  of  attempting  to  rendei 
their  own  bodies  more  beautiful  by  artificial  hues.  The)- 
Talue  whatever  dress  they  may  have  in  proportion  to  the 
gaudiness  of  its  colours ;  they  weave  rich  and  variegated 
plumes  into  their  hair ;  and  as  they  conjectured,  from  hia 
scarlet  dress,  that  Columbus  was  the  captain  of  the  Span- 
iards, so  they  are  wont  to  intimate  and  express  their  own 
rank  and  dignity  by  the  splendour  of  their  equipments. 

(3.)  And  the  same  trait  which  has  been  so  often  no- 
ticed in  Savages,  may  be  observed  also,  though  in  a  less 
deo;ree,  amongi;  the  uneducated  classes  in  civilized  com- 
munities.  In  persons  of  refinement,  the  original  tenden- 
cy to  receive  pleasing  emotions  from  the  contemplation 
of  colours  seems  to  have,  in  a  measure,  lost  its  power,  in 
consequence  of  the  developement  of  tendencies  to  receive 
pleasure  from  other  causes.  In  those,  on  the  contrary, 
who  have  possessed  less  advantages  of  mental  culture, 
and  whose  sources  of  pleasure  may  in  consequence  be 
supposed  to  lay  nearer  to  the  surface  of  the  mind,  this 
tendency  remains  undiminished.  Coloured  objects  gen- 
erally atTect  them  with  a  high  degree  of  pleasure ;  so 
much  so  that  the  absence  of  colour  is  not,  in  their  esti- 
mation, easily  compensated  by  the  presence  of  any  other 
qualities.  We  cannot  well  suppose  that  there  is  any  in- 
termediate influence  between  the  beautiful  object  mA  the 
mind,  of  which  this  pleasure  is  the  product ;  but  must 
rather  conclude,  in  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  that  the 
presence  of  the  object,  and  that  only,  is  the  grcad  of  ita 
existence 

<J  263.   Further  illustrations  of  tht  original  beauty 'i    colours. 

We  may  derive  additional  proof  of  the  ;V.t  that  col- 
oiirs  are  of  themselves  fitted  to  cause  emotions  of  beauty 


EMOTIONS    OF    REAL'TY  2S3 

from  what  we  learn  in  the  case  of  those  persons  who 
nave  been  blind  from  birth,  but  in  after  life  have  sucl 
(lenly  been  restored  by  couching,  or  in  some  other  way 
— "  I  have  couched,"  says  Dr.  Wardrop,*  speaking  of 
James  Mitchell,  "  one  of  hi?  eyes  successfully ;  and  he 
is  much  amused  with  the  visible  world,  though  he  mis- 
tnists  information  gained  by  that  avenue.  One  day  I  got 
him  a  new  and  gaudy  suit  of  clothes,  which  delighted  hira 
tjeyond  description.  It  was  the  most  interesting  scene  ol 
jensual  gratification  I  ever  beheld." 

But  this  person,  it  appears,  had  some  faint  notions  of 
light  and  colours  previous  to  the  operation  by  which  his 
powers  of  vision  were  more  fully  restored.  And  the 
facts,  stated  in  connexion  with  his  exercise  of  this  imper- 
fect vision,  are  equally  decisive  in  favour  of  the  doctrine 
under  consideration.  The  statements  to  which  w'c  refei 
are  as  follows. — "  At  the  time  of  life  when  this  boy  began 
to  w^alk,  he  seemed  to  be  attracted  by  bright  and  dazzling 
colours  ;  and  though  everything  connected  wath  his  his- 
tory appears  to  prove  that  he  derived  little  information 
from  the  organ,  yet  he  received  from  it  much  sensual 
gratification.  He  used  to  hold  between  his  eye  and  lu- 
minous objects  such  bodies  as  he  found  to  increase,  by 
their  interposition,  the  quantity  of  light ;  and  it  was  one 
of  his  chief  amusements  to  concentrate  the  sun's  rays  by 
■means  of  pieces  of  glass,  transparent  pebbles,  or  similar 
substances,  w^hich  he  held  between  his  eye  and  the  light, 
and  turned  about  in  various  directions.  These  too  he 
would  often  break  w'ith  his  teeth,  and  give  them  that 
form  which  seemed  to  please  him  most.  There  were  oth- 
er modes  by  wdiich  he  was  in  the  habit  of  gratifying  this 
fondness  for  light.  He  would  retire  to  any  outhouse  or  to 
any  room  within  his  reach,  shut  the  windows  and  doors, 
and  remain  there  for  some  considerable  time,  wdth  his  eyes 
fixed  on  some  small  hole  or  chink  which  admitted  the 
am's  rays,  eagerly  watching  them.  He  w^ould  also,  du- 
Bng  the  winter  nights,  often  retire  to  a  dark  corner  of  the 
room,  and  kindle  a  light  for  his  amusement.  On  these  oc^ 
casions,  as  well  as  in  the  gratification  of  his  other  senses, 
his  countenance  and  gestures  displayeJ  a  most  interesting 
avidity  and  curiosity." 

*   As  r,  rjted  by  Mr    Slewart  i  i  his  acc<iiiiil  of  Milcbell 


286  EMOTKiNS   OF    BEAUTY. 

The  conclusion  which  we  deduce  fiora  these  sources  of 
proof  is,  that  colours  are  fitted,  from  olu*  very  constitu- 
tion, to  produce  within  us  emotions  of  beauty. 

$  264,  Of  sounds  considered  as  a  source  of  beauty. 

We  next  propose  to  inquire  into  the  application  of  these 
principles  in  respect  to  sounds.  And  here  also  we  have 
reason  to  believe  that  they  hold  good  to  a  certain  extent; 
in  other  words,  that  certain  sounds  are  pleasing  of  them- 
selves ;  and  are  hence,  agreeably  to  views  already  ex- 
pressed, termed  beautiful. — In  proceeding,  however,  to 
the  consideration  of  beauty  as  it  exists  in  connexion 
wth  sounds,  it  may  be  proper  to  recur  to  the  remark 
which  was  made  near  the  commencement  of  the  chapter, 
that  the  sources  or  grounds  of  beauty,  although  the  emo- 
tions they  excite  within  us  are  all  of  essentially  the  same 
kind,  are  very  various.  In  view  of  what  was  there  said, 
we  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  doubt,  as  some  may  be  dispo- 
sed to  do,  whether  there  is  beauty  in  sounds,  merely  be- 
cause sounds  are  obviously  altogether  different  from  some 
other  objects  which  constitute  sources  of  beauty,  such  as 
colours  or  forms.  It  is  not  the  intention  of  nature  that 
the  empire  of  the  beautiful  shall  be  limited  in  this  man- 
ner. On  the  contrary,  if  certain  sounds  have  something 
within  them,  which  from  its  very  nature  is  calculated  to 
excite  within  us  pleasing  emotions,  they  are  obviously  dis- 
tinguished by  this  circumstance  from  other  sounds,  and 
furnish  a  sufficient  reason  for  our  regarding  them  and 
speaking  of  them  as  beautiful. 

(1.)  In  asserting,  however,  that  there  is  an  original 
beauty  in  sounds,  we  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as 
saying  that  all  sounds,  of  whatever  kind,  possess  thi.s 
character.  There  are  some  sounds  wdiich,  in  themselves 
f^onsidered,  are  justly  regarded  as  indifferent,  and  otheis 
RS  positively  disagreeable.  No  one  would  hesitate  in 
pronouncing  the  discordant  creaking  of  a  wheel,  the  filing 
of  a  saw,  the  braying  of  the  ass,  the  scream  of  a  peacock, 
or  the  hissing  of  a  serpent,  to  be  disagreeable.  There 
are  other  sounds,  such  as  the  bleating  of  the  lamb,  the 
lowing  of  the  cow,  the  call  of  the  goat,  and  other  note« 
nnd  cries  of  animals,  which  appear  to  be,  in  themselves, 


KMOTlONt    Ol'    liEAUTY.  2!57 

entirely  indifferent.  We  are  aware  that  they  are  some- 
times spoken  of  as  Leautiful ;  nor  is  it  necessary  to  deny 
that  they  ai-e  sometimes  heard  with  a  high  degree  of 
pleasure  But  we  regard  the  beauty  in  this  case  as  rath- 
er  associated  than  intrinsic ;  the  result  rather  of  acces- 
sory circumstances  than  of  the  thing  itself.  The  happy 
remfirks  of  Mr.  Aison,  going  to  show  the  nature  of  the 
beauty  which  is  ordinarily  felt  at  such  times,  w\ll  be  read 
with  interest. 

"  The  bleating  of  a  lamb  is  beautiful  in  a  fme  day  in 
spring ;  in  the  dept*i  of  winter  it  is  very  far  from  being 
so.  The  lowing  of  a  cow  at  a  distance,  amid  the  scene- 
ry of  a  pastoral  landscape  in  summer,  is  extremely  beau- 
tiful ;  in  a  farmyard  it  is  absolutely  disagreeable.  The 
hum  of  the  beetle  is  beautiful  in  a  fine  summer  evening, 
as  appearing  to  suit  the  stillness  and  repose  of  that  pleas- 
ing season  :  in  the  noon  of  day  it  is  perfectly  indift'erent. 
The  twitter  of  the  swallow  is  beautiful  in  the  morning, 
and  seems  to  be  expressive  of  the  cheerfulness  of  that 
time  ;  at  any  other  hour  it  is  quite  insignificant.  Even 
the  song  of  the  nightingale,  so  wonderfully  charming  in 
the  twilight  or  at  night,  is  altogether  disregarded  during 
the  day  ;  in  so  much  so,  that  it  has  given  rise  to  the 
common  mistake  that  this  bird  does  not  sing  but  at  night " 

^  265.  Illustrations  of  the  original  beauty  of  sounds. 

(2.)  Other  sounds,  those  which  are  properly  termed 
musical,  have  a  beauty  which  is  original  or  intrinsic,  and 
not  merely  accessory.  It  is  true  that  different  nations 
have  different  casts  or  styles  of  music,  modified  by  the 
Gituation  and  habits  of  the  people ;  but  everything  tha* 
can  properly  be  called  music,  whatever  occasional  or  ac- 
cidental modification  it  may  assume,  is  in  its  nature  more 
ox  less  beautiful.  Musical  sounds,  independently  of  their 
i;ombinations  and  expression,  are  characterized  in  a  way 
wYvizn  distinsfuishes  them  from  all  others  :  viz.,  by  the 
cir.  uimstancc  of  their  possessing  certain  mathematical 
proportions  in  their  times  of  vibration  Sach  sounds 
please  us  originally;  in  other  words,  whenever,  in  all  or- 
dinary circumstances,  they  are  heard,  they  ;please  natural 
iy  and  necessarily. — We  are  aware  that  attempts  hav« 


«Jf^  EMOTIONS    OF    EEAU'n-. 

someilmes  been  made  to  explain  the  pleasure  whicii  is 
received  from  musical  sounds,  as  well  as  from  those  of  a 
different  character,  on  the  doctrine  of  association.  But 
there  are  various  difficulties  in  this  explanation,  some  of 
wliich  will  now  be  referred  to. 

(1.)  In  the  first  place,  we  are  led  to  expect,  from  the 
fciiaalogy  of  things  which  we  witness  in  other  cases,  that 
'A'e  shall  find,  in  the  human  heart  also,  an  original  sensi- 
bility to  the  beautiful  in  the  matter  under  consideration. 
We  refer  now  to  what  we  frequently  notice  in  the  lower 
animals  ;  and  although  we  do  not  claim  that  very  much 
weight  should  be  attached  to  this  view  of  the  subject,  it 
certainly  furnishes   some   matter   for   reflection.      Why 
uhould  brute  animals  be  originally  pleased  with  musical 
.*ounds,  and  man,  whom  we  may  well  suppose  to  have  as 
:.Quch  need  of  this  pleasure,  be  naturally  destitute  of  the 
capability  of  receiving  if?     In  regard  to  brute  animals, 
(we  do  not  say  all,  but  many  of  them,)  there  is  no  possi- 
ble question   as   to   the  fact   involved   in  this  inquiry 
Through  all  the  numberless  varieties  which  they  exhibit, 
from  the  moi  se,  of  which  Linnaeus  says  with  strict  truth, 
"  DELECTATirR  MUSicA,"  to  the  elcpliaut  on  the  banks  of  the 
Niger,  that  responds  with  his  unwieldy  dance  to  the  rude 
instrmnent  of   the  untutored  African,  they  yield   their 
homage  to  the  magic  of  sweet  sounds.     To  attempt  to 
explain  the  pleasure  they  receive  on  the  ground  of  asso- 
ciation would  be  difficult,  perhaps  ridiculous.     The  sim- 
ple fact  is,  that  they  listen  and  are  delighted.     It  is  the 
pound,  and  nothing  but  the  sound,  which  excites  the  joy 
they  exhibit.     So  great  is  the  acknowledged  power  of 
music  over  many  brute  animals,  that  the  classical  tradi- 
tions which  celebrate  the  achievements  of  the  early  poel.f 
a.Qd  musicians  scarcely  transcend  the  bounds  of  truth 

"  For  Orpheus'  lute  was  strung  with  poets'  sinews, 
Whose  golden  touch  could  soften  steel  and  stones, 
Make  tigers  tame,  and  huge  leviathans 
Forsake  unsounded  deeps  to  dance  on  sands." 

(2.  J  In  the  second  place,  children,  at  an  early  period 
of  life,  before  they  have  had  an  opportunity  of  connect- 
ing,^ associations  with  them  to  any  great  extent,  are  high- 
ly pleased  with  musical  sounds.     This  is  a  fact  which 


EMOTIONS    OF    BKAUTY.  289 

vfe  cannot  suppose  has  escaped  the  notice  of  duy  one. 
Let  a  wandering  musician  suddenly  make  his  appearance 
in  a  country  village,  Avith  his  fife,  bagpipe,  or  hand-or- 
gan, (instruments  which  are  not  supposecl  to  possess  the 
highest  claims  to  musical  power,)  and  it  is  surprising  to 
^ee  with  what  an  outburst  of  joy  the  sound  i;;  welcomed 
(O  the  heart  of  childhood.  Delightetl  countenances  clus- 
ter at  the  windows ;  and  merry  groups,  that  just  before 
made  the  streets  ring  with  their  noise,  suddenly  leave 
their  sports,  and  rush  with  a  new  and  delighted  impulse 
to  the  presence  of  the  strolling  minstrel.  This  is  univer- 
sally the  fact ;  and  when  w^e  consider  the  early  age  at 
which  it  takes  place,  it  seems  to  be  inconsistent  with  any 
other  view  than  that  which  ascribes  to  sounds  of  a  cer- 
tain character  an  original  or  intrinsic  attraction. 

(3.)  We  witness,  furthermore,  the  same  result  in  Sav- 
age tribes,  wlien  they  first  become  acquainted  with  the 
instrmnents  of  music,  however  simple  or  imperfect  they 
may  be,  which  have  been  fabricated  by  European  skill. 
It  is  said  of  the  native  inhabitants  of  this  country,  that 
they  frequently  purchased  of  the  Spaniards,  when  they 
first  came  to  America,  small  bells ;  and  when  they  hunp 
them  on  their  persons,  and  heqrd  their  clear  music  rj 
sounds  responding  to  the  movement  of  their  dances,  they 
were  filled  with  the  highest  possible  delight.  At  a  latei 
period  in  the  history  of  the  country,  it  is  related  by  one 
of  the  Jesuit  missionaries,  that  once  coming  into  the  com- 
pany of  certain  ignorant  and  fierce  Indians,  he  met  with 
a  rude  and  menacing  reception,  which  foreboded  no  very 
favourable  termination.  As  it  was  not  his  design,  how- 
ever, to  enter  into  any  contention  if  it  could  possibly  be 
avoided,  he  immediately  commenced  playing  on  a  string- 
ed instrument ;  their  feelings  were  softened  at  once ;  and 
the  evil  spirit  of  jealousy  and  anger,  which  they  exhibited 
on  his  first  approach  to  them,  fled  from  their  minds."*- - 
We  cannot  suppose  it  necessary  to  multiply  instances  to 
I  he  same  effect. 

♦  Se3  Irving's  Life  and  Voyages  of  Colimbus,  ch.  ix  —London  Qaai- 
lorlv  Review,  vol.  xxvi..  p.  287. 

B? 


Z^  EMOTIONS    OF    BEAoTY. 

<;  2n(i     Further  instances  of  the  original  beauty  of  iounds 

i'4.)  In  the  fourth  place,  deaf  persons,  who  have  beei 
suddenly  restored  to  the  sense  of  hearing,  and  also  per- 
sons who,  in  consequence  of  their  peculiar  situation,  have 
never  heard  musical  sounds  till  a  certain  period  of  their 
life,  and  have  therefore  been  unable,  in  either  case,  to 
form  associations  with  such  sounds,  either  pleasant  or  un- 
pleasant, have  been  found,  on  hearing  them  for  the  firct 
time,  to  experience  a  high  degree  of  pleasure. — So  tar  as 
we  have  been  able  to  learn,  w^e  believe  this  to  be  the  fact. 
At  the  same  time,  as  instances  of  this  kind  seldom  occurj 
and  are  still  less  frequently  recorded,  we  do  not  profess  tc 
rel}-  upon  the  statement  as  universally  true,  wdth  an  entire 
degree  of  confidence.  The  circumstances  w^hich  are  rela- 
ted of  Caspar  Hauser,  on  hearing  musical  sounds  for  the 
first  time,  a're  one  of  the  few  instances  in  point.  The 
statement  is  as  follows. — "  Not  only  his  mind,  but  many 
of  his  senses,  appeared  at  first  to  be  in  a  state  of  stupor, 
and  only  gradually  to  open  to  the  perception  of  external 
objects.  It  was  not  before  the  lapse  of  several  days  that 
he  began  to  notice  the  striking  of  the  steeple  clock  and 
the  ringing  of  the  bells.  This  threw  him  into  the  great- 
est astonishment,  which  at  first  was  expressed  only  by  his 
listening  looks  and  by  certain  spasmodic  motions  of  his 
countenance;  but  it  was  soon  succeeded  by  a  stare  of 
benumbed  meditation.  Some  weeks  afterAvard  the  nup- 
tial procession  of  a  peasant  passed  by  the  tower,  with  a 
band  of  music,  close  under  his  window.  He  suddenly 
stood  listening,  motionless  as  a  statue ;  his  countenance 
appeared  to  be  transfigured,  and  his  eyes,  as  it  were,  tn 
irradiate  his  ecstasy;  his  ears  and  eyes  seemed  continu- 
ally to  follow  the  movements  of  the  sounds  as  they  rece- 
ded more  and  more;  and  they  had  long  ceased  to  be 
audible,  while  he  still  continued  immoveably  fixed  in  .a 
listening  posture,  as  if  unwilling  to  lose  the  last  A-ibrationa 
of  these,  to  him,  celestial  notes,  or  as  if  his  soul  had  fol- 
lowed them  and  left  his  body  behind  it  in  torpid  insensi' 
bility."* 

i  26?.  The  permanency  of  musical  power  dependent  Dn  its  being  inlniisic 

On  the  subject  of  the  original  ~r  intrinsic  beauty  of  cof' 

•  Ijfe  of  Casi)ar  Hauser.  rh    iii. 


KMOTIONS    OP    BEAUTY  291 

tt:is  Sviunds,  one  other  remark  remains  to  be  made  licre. 
—It  Avill  be  recollected,  that  the  doctrine  which  we  are 
t>pposing  is,  that  all  the  power  w^hich  musical  sounds 
have,  considered  as  a  so"rce  of  beauty,  is  wholly  resolva 
ble  into  association.  If  this  be  true,  then  it  seems  to  dv 
the  proper  business  of  professed  composers  of  music  to 
stndy  the  nature  and  tendency  of  associations  rather  than 
of  sounds.  The  common  supposit'on  in  this  matter  un 
doubtedly  is,  that  the  musical  composer  exercises  his  in- 
vention and  taste,  in  addition  to  the  general  conception 
or  outline  of  his  work,  in  forming  ])eriect  chords,  varied 
modulation,  and  accurate  rythm.  This  is  a  principal,  not 
the  only  one,  but  a  principal  field  of  his  labours  j  the 
theatre  on  which  his  genius  is  especially  displayed  ;  and 
without  these  results  of  chord,  modulation,  and  rythm,  il 
is  certain  that  his  efforts  wall  fail  to  please.  But  if  the 
doctrine  which  we  are  opposing  be  true,  would  it  not  be 
the  fact,  that  he  could  bring  together  the  most  harsh  and 
discordant  eounds,  and  compose,  by  means  of  them,  the 
great  works  of  his  art,  provided  he  took  the  pains  to  covei 
their  defonnity  by  throwing  over  them  some  fascinating 
dress  of  association  'f  But  we  presume  it  will  not  be  pre- 
tended that  mere  association  possesses  this  power  as  a 
general  thing,  even  m  the  hands  of  genius. — Furthermore^, 
we  do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  from  .the  nature  of  the 
case,  the  musical  genms  which  composes  its  works  for 
immortality  must  deal  chiefly  with  the  elements  and  es- 
sentialities of  things,  and  noi  with  the  mere  incidents  ana 
accessories.  Permanency  in  tlie  works  of  art,  of  course, 
implies  a  corresponding  permanency  in  their  foundation. 
Associations  are  correctly  understood  to  be,  from  theii 
very  nature,  uncertain  and  changeable,  while  the  beauty 
of  some  musical  compositions  (we  sp-^ak  but  the  common 
Bentiment  of  mankind  in  saying  it)  is  imperishable ;  a  fact 
which  seems  to  be  inconsistent  wdth  it«  h<?ing  founded  or, 
an  unfixed  and  evanescent  basis. 

^  268.  Of  motion  as  an  element  of  beauty. 

Motion  also,  a  new  and  distinct  object  of  contempla* 
tion,  has  usually  been  reckoned  a  source  of  the  beautiful, 
and  very  jastly.—  A  forest  or  a  field  of  grain,  gently  waved 


2b2  EMOTIO.NS    OF    EKAirrV 

by  tlip,  Aviiul,  affects  us  pleasantly.  Tlie  motion  of  a  wind- 
ing r.vcr  pleases  ;  and  this,  not  only  because  the  river  i? 
serpentine,  but  because  it  is  never  at  rest.  We  are  d*' 
lighted  with  the  motion  of  a  ship  as  it  cleaves  the  sea 
under  full  sail.  We  look  on  as  it  moves  like  a  thino-  of 
life,  and  are  pleased  without  being  able  to  control  our 
feelings,  or  to  tell  why  they  exist.  And  the  waves,  toOj 
around  it,  which  are  continually  approaching  and  depart- 
iag,  and  curling  upward  in  huge  masses,  and  then  breaks 
iiig  asunder  into  fragments  of  every  shape,  present  a  much 
more  pleasing  appearance  than  they  would  if  profoundly 
quiet  and  stagnant. 

With  Vvhat  happy  enthusiasm  we  behold  the  foaming 
cascade,  as  it  breaks  out  from  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
and  dashes  downward  to  its  base  !  With  what  pleasing 
satisfaction  we  gaze  upon  a  column  of  smoke  ascending 
from  a  cottage  in  a  w^ood ;  a  trait  in  outward  scenery 
which  landscape  painters,  who  must  ceitainly  be  account- 
ed good  judges  of  what  is  beautiful  in  the  aspects  of  ex 
ternal  nature,  are  exceedingly  fond  of  introducing.  It 
may  be  said  in  this  case,  we  are  aware,that  the  pleasure 
arising  from  beholding  the  ascending  smoke  of  the  cot- 
tage is  caused  by  the  favourite  suggestions  which  are 
connected  with  it,  of  rural  seclusion,  peace,  and  abun- 
dance. But  there  is  much  reason  to  believe  that  the  feel- 
ing would  be,  to  some  extent,  the  same,  if  it  were  known 
to  ascend  from  the  uncomfortable  wigwam  of  the  Savage, 
from  an  accidental  conflagration,  or  from  the  fires  of  a 
wandering  horde  of  gipsies. — And  if  motion,  on  the  lim- 
ited scale  on  which  we  are  accustomed  to  view  it,  be 
beautiful,  how  great  would  be  the  ecstasy  of  our  feelings 
if  we  could  be  placed  on  some  pinnacle  of  the  universe, 
and  could  take  in  at  one  glance  the  regular  and  unbroken 
movement  of  the  worlds  and  systems  of  infinite  space. 

^  369.  Explanation  of  the  beauty  of  motion  from  Kdinies. 

Die  author  of  the  Elements  of  Criticism,  who-studied 
our  emotions  with  great  care,  has  the  following  explana- 
tions on  this  subject. — "  Motion  is  certainly  agreeable  in 
all  its  varieties  of  quickness  and  slowness ;  but  motion 
long  continued  admits  sonif  exceptions.     Tha+  degree  of 


ASSOCIATED    BEAUTY  29? 

rontinued  motion  which  corresponds  o  the  natiial  tours? 
'»t  our  perceptions  is  the  most  agreeable.  The  quickesi 
motion  is  for  an  instant  deliglitlul ;  but  it  soon  appears 
to  be  too  rapid :  it  becomes  painful  by  forcibly  accelera- 
ting the  couree  of  our  perceptions.  Slow,  continued  mo- 
tion becomes  disagreeable  for  an  opposite  reason,  that  il 
'•^tards  the  natural  course  of  our  perceptions. 

"  There  are  other  varieties  in  motion,  besides  qmcknea 
and  slowness,  that  make  it  more  or  less  agreeable :  regular 
motion  is  preferred  before  what  is  irregular ;  witness  tlis 
motion  of  the  planets  in  orbits  nearly  circular :  the  motion 
of  the  comets  in  orbits  less  regular  is  less  asrreeable. 

"  Motion  uniformly  accelerated,  resembling  an  ascend- 
ing series  of  numbers,  is  more  agreeable  than  when  uni- 
Ibrmly  retarded :  motion  upward  is  agreeable  by  the  ele- 
vation of  the  moving  body.  What  then  shall  we  say  ol 
downward  motion  regularly  accelerated  by  the  force  of 
gravity,  compared  with  upward  motion  i-egularly  retard- 
ed by  the  same  force?  Which  of  these  is  the  mo3t 
agreeable  7     This  question  is  not  easily  solved. 

"  JNIotion  in  a  straight  line  is  no  doubt  agreeable  :  but 
we  prefer  undulating  motion,  as  of  waves,  of  a  flame,  of 
a  ship  under  sail :  such  motion  is  more  free  and  also 
more  natural.     Hence  the  beauty  of  a  serpentine  river  " 


CHAPTER  III. 


ASSOCIATED   BEAUTY. 


^  270.  Associalcd  beauty  implies  an  antecedent  or  intnnsic  beauty. 

The  views  on  the  subject  of  beauty,  which  we  think  i{ 
xjportant  to  enforce,  involve  the  positions,  first,  that 
Jiere  is  an  original  or  intrinsic  beauty ;  and  second,  tha 
there  is  a  beauty  dependent  on  association. — In  opposi 
tion  to  those  persons  who  may  be  disposed  to  maintain 
that  no  object  is  beautiful  of  itself,  but  that  all  its  beautj 
depends  on  association,  we  wish,  in  this  connexion,  to  in 
trO(]uce  what  we  regard  as  an  impoitant  remark  of  Mi 
B  k2 


294  ASSOCIATED    BEaUTY. 

Stewart  "  Tlie  theoiy,"  he  remarks,  ''  whith  leyoivea 
the  whole  effect  of  beautiful  objects  into  Association,  must 
necessarily  involve  that  species  of  paralogism,  to  which 
ioo-icians  give  the  name  of  reasoning  in  a  circle.  It  is  the 
province  of  association  to  impart  to  one  thing  the  di^'- 
do-reeable  or  the  agreeable  effect  of  another ;  but  associa 
lion  can  never  account  for  the  origin  of  a  class  of  pleas 
ures  different  in  kind  from  all  the  others  we  know.  li 
there  was  nothing  originally  and  intrinsically  pleasing  oi 
beautiful,  the  associating  principle  would  have  no  mate- 
rials on  which  it  could  operate,"* 

This  remark,  if  it  be  true,  appears  to  be  decisive  on 
the  subject  before  us.  And  that  it  is  true,  we  think  must 
appear  from  the  very  nature  of  association.  What  we 
term  association,  it  wnll  be  recollected,  does  not  so  much 
express  a  state  of  the  mind,  a  thought,  a  feeling,  a  pas- 
sion, as  it  does  a  principle  or  law  of  the  mind ;  in  other 
words,  the  circumstance  under  which  a  new  state  of 
mind  takes  place.  Association,  therefore,  as  Mr.  Stewart 
intimates,  does  not  of  itself  originate  or  create  anything : 
but  acts  in  reference  to  what  is  already  created  or  origi- 
nated. Something  must  be  given  for  it  to  act  upon.  If 
it  imparts  beauty  to  one  object,  it  must  find  it  in  another. 
If  the  beauty  exists  in  that  other  object  in  consequence 
of  association,  it  must  have  been  drawn  from  some  other 
source  still  more  remote.  If,  therefore,  association  merely 
takes  the  beauty  on  its  wings,  if  we  may  be  allowed  the 
expression,  and  transfers  it  from  place  to  place,  there 
must,  .of  necessity,  be  somewhere  an  original  or  intrinsic 
b(.'auty,  which  is  made  the  subject  of  such  transfer. 

1^  27'..  Objects  may  become  beautiful  by  association  meroly. 

In  accordance  with  what  has  thus  far  been  said  on  this 
whole  subject,  it  will  be  kept  in  mind,  that  some  of  the 
forms,  of  which  matter  is  susceptible,  are  pleasing  of 
themselves  and.  originally ;  also  that  we  are  unable  to  be- 
hold certain  colours,  and  to  hsten  to  certain  sounds,  and 
gaze  upon  particular  expressions  of  the  countenance,  and 
to  contemplate  high  intellectual  and  moral  excellence, 
without  emotions  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  delightful 
*  Essay  on  the  Beautiful,  chapter  vi. 


ASSO:iATED    BEAUTV.  295 

1 1  t!  6  SbiAe  tim(\  it  must  be  admitted,  that  iji  the  courst 
of  v.ur  experience  we  find  a  variety  oi'  objects,  that  seem, 
as  they  are  presented  to  us,  to  be  unattended  with  any 
emotion  whatever ;  objects  that  are  perfectly  indifferent. 
And  yet  these  objects,  however  wanting  in  beauty  to  the 
great  mass  of  men,  are  found  to  be  invested  in  the  minds 
of  soLie  with  a  charm,  allowedly  not  their  own.  These 
objects,  whicii  previously  excited  no  feeLngs  of  beauty, 
may  become  beautiful  to  us  in  consequence  of  the  asso- 
ciations which  we  attach  to  them.  That  is  to  say,  when 
the  objects  are  beheld,  certain  former  pleasing  feelings 
peculiar  to  ourselves  are  recalled. 

The  lustre  of  a  spring  morning,  the  radiance  of  a  sum- 
mer evening,  may  of  themselves  excite  in  us  a  pleasing 
emotion  ;  but  as  our  busy  imagination,  taking  advantage 
of  the  images  of  delight  which  are  before  us,  is  ever  at 
work  and  constantly  forming  new  images,  there  is,  in  com- 
bination with  the  original  emotion  of  beauty,  a  superad- 
ded delight.  And  if,  in  these  instances,  only  a  part  of 
the  beauty  is  to  be  ascribed  to  association,  there  are  some 
others  where  the  whole  is  to  be  considered  as  derived 
from  that  source. 

Numerous  instances  can  be  given  of  the  power  of  as- 
sociation, not  only  in  heightening  the  actual  charms  of 
objects,  but  in  spreading  a  sort  of  delegated  lustre  around 
those  that  were  entirely  uninteresting  before.  Why  does 
yon  decaying  house  appear  beautiful  to  me,  which  is 
mdifferent  to  another '?  Why  are  the  desolate  fields 
around  it  clothed  with  delight,  while  others  see  in  them 
nothing  that  is  pleasant  ?  It  is  because  that  house  form- 
erly detained  me  as  one  of  its  inmates  at  its  fireside,  and 
those  fields  were  the  scenes  of  many  youthful  sports. 
When  I  now  behold  them  after  so  long  a  time,  the  joyous' 
emotions  which  the  remembrance  of  my  early  days  calls 
up  within  n.e,  are,  by  the  power  of  association,  thrown 
around  the  objects  which  are  the  cause  of  the  remem- 
bnnces. 

^  272    Further  illustralions  of  associated  feelings. 

He  who  travels  through  a  well-cultivated  country  town, 
!',annot  but  be  pleased  with  the  various  objects  which  he 


2'-J(i  ASSOCIATED    BEAUT  V. 

Dehokls ;  the  neat  and  comfortable  dwellings  ;  llie  mcdd 
o\vs,  that  are  peopled  with  flocks  and  with  herds  of  cat- 
tle ;  the  fields  of  grain,  intermingled  with  reaches  of  thick 
and  dark  forest.  The  whole  scene  is  a  beautiful  one ;  the 
emotion  we  suppose  to  be  partly  original ;  a  person,  on 
being  restored  to  sight  by  couching  for  the  cataract,  and 
having  had  no  opportunity  to  form  associations  with  it 
would  witness  it  for  the  first  time  with  delight.  But  s. 
>jnsiderable  part  of  the  pleasure  is  owing  to  the  associa- 
ted feelings  which  arise  on  beholding  such  a  scene;  these 
dwellings  are  the  abode  of  man;  these  fields  are  the 
place  of  his  labours,  and  amply  reward  him  for  his  toil ; 
here  are  contentment,  the  interchange  of  heartfelt  joys, 
and  "  ancient  truth." 

Those  who  have  travelled  over  places  that  have  been 
signalized  by  memorable  events,  will  not  be  likely  to  sus- 
pect us  of  attributing  too  great  a  share  of  our  emotions 
to  association.  It  is  true,  that,  in  a  countiy  so  new  as 
America,  ^ve  are  unable  to  point  so  frequently  as  a  Eu- 
ropean might  do  to  places  that  have  witnessed  achieve- 
ments and  sufferings  of  such  a  character  as  to  become 
sacred  in  a  nation's  memory.  But  there  are  s-^me  such 
consecrated  spots.  With  whatever  emotion  or  want  of 
emotion  the  traveller  may  pass  by  other  places  of  our 
wild  and  stormy  coast,  he  would  do  violence  to  the  finest 
impulses  of  the  heart  if  he  did  not  stop  at  the  Rock  of 
Plymouth,  the  landing-place  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers. 
Not  because  there  is  anything  in  the  scenery,  either  of  the 
ocean  cr  the  land,  which  presents  claims  upon  him  more 
imperative,  or  so  much  so  as  that  of  some  other  places. 
But  there  is  a  moral  power,  the  spirit  of  great  acliieve- 
ments  hovering  around  the  spot,  (explainable  on  the  prin- 
ciples of  association  and  on  them  alone,)  which  spreads 
itself  over  the  hard  features  of  the  soil,  and  illuminates 
the  bleakness  of  the  sky,  and  harmonizes  what  would  be 
otherwise  rugged  and  forbidding  into  a  scene  of  touching 
loveliness  and  beauty. 

The  pow^erful  feeling  which  exists  on  visiting  such  a 
spot,  whether  we  call  it  an  emotion  of  beauty  or  sublinr  i- 
ty,  or  give  it  a  name  expressive  of  some  intermediate 
ejrade,  is  essentially  the  same  with  that  wh'ch  is  caused  .» 


ASSOCIATED    BEAUTY.  2^i 

the  bosoiu  of  the  traveller  when  he  loolcs  for  the  firs 
time  upon  the  hills  of  the  city  of  Rome.  There  are  othei 
Cities  of  greater  extent,  and  washed  by  nobler  rivers,  than 
the  one  which  is  before  him ;  but  upon  no  others  has  he 
ever  gazed  with  such  intensity  of  feeling.  He  beholds 
what  was  once  the  mistress  of  the  world ;  he  looks  upon 
the  ancient  dwelling-place  of  Brutus,  of  Cicero,  and  of  the 
Cffisars.  The  imagination  is  at  once  peopled  with  what- 
ever was  noble  in  the  character  and  remarkable  in  the 
achievements  of  that  extraordinary  nation  ;  and  there  is 
a  strength,  a  fulness  of  emotion,  which  would  never  liave 
oeen  experienced  without  the  accession  of  those  great  and 
exciting  remembrances. — It  is  in  connexion  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  this  chapter,  and  in  allusion  to  places  of  his'.ori- 
cal  renown,  that  Rogers,  in  his  Pleasures  of  Memory,  ha.s 
.said,  with  equal  philosophical  truth  and  poetical  skill 

"  And  hence  the  charms  historic  scenes  impart  ; 
Hence  Tiber  awes,  and  .-^von  melts  the  heart  ; 
Aerial  forms  in  Tempe's  classic  vale, 
Glance  through  the  gloom,  and  whisper  in  the  gale  ; 
In  wild  Vaucluse  with  love  and  Laura  dwell, 
And  watch  and  weep  in  Eloisa's  cell." 

9  273.  Instances  of  national  associations. 

The  influence  of  association  in  rousina:  up  and  m  s^iv- 
jiig  strength  to  particular  classes  of  emotions,  may  be  ytri 
kingly  seen  in  some  national  instances. — Every  country 
has  its  favourite  tunes.  These  excite  a  much  strongei 
feeling  in  the  native  inhabitants  than  in  strangers.  The 
effect  on  the  Swiss  soldiers  of  the  Ranz  des  Vaches,  theij 
national  air,  whenever  they  happen  to  hear  it  in  foreign 
lands,  has  often  been  mentioned.  So  great  was  this  ef 
feet,  that  it  was  found  necessary  in  France  to  forbid  its 
being  played  in  the  Swiss  corps  in  the  employment  of  the 
French  government.  The  powerful  effect  of  this  song 
cannot  be  supposed  to  be  owing  to  any  peculiar  merits  iif 
the  composition  ;  but  to  the  pleasing  recollections  which 
tt  ever  vividly  brings  up  to  the  minds  of  the  Swiss,  n, 
mountan  life,  of  freedom,  and  of  domestic  pleasures. 

The  English  have  a  popular  tune  called  Belleish 
March.  Its  popidarity  is  said  to  have  been  owing  to  tht 
circumstance  that  it  was  played  when  ',he  Ecglish  i*r«aj 


298  ASSOCIAIKD    UZAUT/. 

marched  into  Belleisle,  and  to  its  consequent  associalion 
with  rem.embrances  of  war  and  of  conquest.  And  it  wiii 
be  found  true  of  all  national  airs,  that  they  have  a  charm 
for  the  natives  of  the  country,  inconsequence  of  the  rec- 
ollections connected  A\"ith  them,  which  they  do  not  pos- 
sess for  the  inhabitants  of  other  countries. 

We  have  abundant  illustrations  of  the  same  fact  in  rt^ 
jspect  to  colours.  The  purple  colour  has  acquired  an  ex- 
pression or  character  of  dignity,  in  consequence  of  having 
been  the  common  colour  of  the  dress  of  kings ;  among 
the  Chinese,  however,  yellow  is  the  most  dignified  colour, 
and  evidently  for  no  other  reason  than  because  yellow  is 
that  which  is  allotted  to  the  royal  family.  In  n  any  coun- 
tries, black  is  expressive  of  gravity,  and  is  used  particu- 
larly in  seasons  of  distress  and  mourning ;  and  whil:e  is 
a  cheerful  colour.  But  among  the  Chinese  wdrite  is  gloo- 
my, because  it  is  the  elress  of  mourners ;  and  in  Spain 
and  among  the  Venetians  black  has  a  cheerful  expression, 
in  consequence  of  being  worn  by  the  great. 

Many  other  illustrations  to  the  same  purpose  might  be 
brouo-ht  forward.  The  effect  of  association  is  not  unfre- 
^uently  such  as  to  suppress  and  entirely  throw  out  the  ori- 
ginal character  of  an  objcrt,  and  to  substitute  a  new  one 
!n  its  stead.  Who  has  not  felt,  both  in  man  and  woman, 
that  a  single  crime,  that  eve:  one  unhappy  deed  of  mean- 
ness or  dishonour,  is  capable  if  throwing  a  darkness  and 
distortion  over  the  charms  of  the  most  perfect  form  ?  The 
glory  seems  to  have  departed  ;  and  no  effort  of  reasoning 
or  of  imagination  can  fully  restore  it. 

^  274.  The  sources  of  associated  beauty  coincident  with  those  of  humar 
happiness. 

It  would  be  a  pleasing  task  to  point  out  more  particu- 
larly some  of  the  sources  of  associated  beauty,  if  it  were 
consistent  with  the  plan  which  we  propose  to  follow.  But 
it  has  been  our  object  throughout  to  give  the  sketch  or  out- 
line of  a  system,  rather  than  indulge  in  minuteness  of  spe- 
cification. And  as  to  the  subject  which  we  now  alliide 
to.  it  could  hardly  be  expected  that  we  should  attempt 
to  explain  it  extensively,  much  less  exhaust  it,  when  we. 
consieler  that  the  sources  of  associated  beauty  are  as  wiie 
and  as  numerous  as  the  sources  of  man's  hanpinesR 


ASSOCIATED    BEAUTi'.  2i)^ 

Tlie  fountains  of  human  pleasure,  connected  with  the 
senses,  the  intellect,  the  morals,  and  the  social  and  reli- 
gious relations,  are  exceedingly  multiphed.  And  when 
ever  the  happiness  we  experience,  from  whatevc.  source 
it  may  proceed,  is  brought  into  intimacy  with  a  beautiful 
object,  we  generally  find  that  the  beauty  of  the  object  is 
heightened  by  that  circumstance.  In  other  cases,  the  as. 
sociation  is  so  strong,  that  a  beauty  is  shed  upon  objects 
which  are  confessedly  destitute  of  it  in  themselves. — It  is 
enough,  therefore,  to  say,  that  the  sources  of  associated 
beauty  are  necessarily  as  wide  as  the  unexplored  domain 
of  human  joy. 

§  275    Summary  of  views  in  regard  to  the  beautiful. 

As  the  subject  of  emotions  of  beauty  is  one  of  no  small 
difficulty,  it  may  be  of  advantage  to  give  here  a  brief 
summary  of  some  of  the  prominent  view's  in  respect  to  it. 

(1.)  Of  emotions  of  beauty  it  is  difficult  to  give  a  def- 
inition, but  we  notice  in  them  two  marks  or  characteris- 
tics.— They  imply,  first,  a  degree  of  pleasure,  and  sec- 
ondly, are  always  referred  by  us  to  external  objects  as 
their  cause. 

(2.)  Every  beautiful  object  has  something  in  itself, 
which  discriminates  it  from  other  objects  that  are  not 
beautiful.  On  this  ground  ^Ye  may  with  prcpriety  speak 
of  beauty  in  the  object.  At  the  same  time,  a  superadded 
lustre  is  reflected  iDack  upon  it  from  the  mind  ;  and  this 
too,  whether  the  beauty  be  original  or  associated. 

(3.)  The  feeling  which  we  term  an  emotion  of  beauty 
iS  not  limited  to  natural  scenery,  but  may  be  caused  also 
by  the  w^orks  of  art,  by  the  creations  of  the  imagination, 
and  by  the  various  forms  of  intellectual  and  moral  nature, 
»  far  as  they  can  be  presented  to  the  mind.  All  these 
various  objects  and  others  may  excite  within  us  feelings 
">f  pleasiu-e,  and  the  mind,  in  its  turn,  may  reflect  bark 
upon  the  objects  the  lustre  of  its  own  emotions,  and  thus 
increase  the  degree  of  their  beauty. 

(4.)  There  is  in  the  mind  an  original  susceptibility  ol 
emotions  in  general,  and  of  those  of  beauty  in  particular; 
and  not  only  this,  some  objects  are  found  in  the  constitu- 
tion cf  things  to  be  followed  by  these  feelings  of  beauty 


3fX)  EMOTIONS   OI-    SUBLIMITY, 

while  olhtis  are  not  j  and  such  objects  are  spoken  ot  a» 
oeing  originally  beautiful.  'That  is,  when  the  object  is 
presented  to  the  mind,  it  is  of  itself  followed  by  emotions 
of  beauty,  witliout  being  aided  by  the  influence  of  acces- 
sory and  contingent  circumstances. 

(5.)  Without  pretending  to  certainty  in  fixing  upon 
those  objects,  to  which  what  is  termed  original  or  intrinsir 
beauty  may  be  ascribed,  there  appears  to  be  no  small  rea  • 
son  in  attributing  it  to  certain  forms,  to  sounds  of  a  par 
licular  character,  to  bright  colours,  to  some  varieties  of 
motion,  and,  we  may  add,  to  intellectual  and  moral  excel- 
lence, whenever  it  can  be  made  a  distinct  object  of  per 
ception. 

(6.)  Many  objects,  which  cannot  be  considei'ed  beauti- 
ful of  themselves,  become  such  by  being  associated  with 
a  variety  of  former  pleasing  and  enlivening  recollections , 
and  such  as  possess  beauty  of  themselves  may  augment 
the  pleasing  emotions  from  the  same  cause.  Also  much 
of  the  difference  of  opinion  which  exists  as  to  what  ob- 
jects are  beautiful  and  what  are  not,  is  to  be  ascribed  to 
difference  of  association. — These  are  some  of  the  prom- 
inent views  resulting  from  inquiries  into  this  subject 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EMOTIONS    OF    SUBLIMITY 
<J  276.   Connexion  between  beauty  ai.d  sublimity. 

Those  emotions  which,  by  way  of  distinction,  we  desig- 
nate as  SUBLIME,  are  a  class  of  feelings  which  have  much 
in  common  with  emotions  of  beauty ;  they  do  not  appear 
to  differ  so  much  in  nature  or  kind  as  in  degree.  Wher 
we  examine  the  feelings  which  are  embraced  under  these 
two  designations,  we  readily  perceive  that  they  have  a 
progression ;  that  there  are  numerous  degrees  in  point  of 
intensity ;  but  the  emotion,  although  more  vivid  iv  one 
case  than  the  other,  and  mingled  whh  some  foreign  ele- 
ment«,  is,  for  the  most  part,  essentially  the  same.    So  tha' 


EMOTIONS    OF    feUBLlMITY.  60l 

il  IS  by  no  means  impossible  to  trace,  in  a  multiUide  of 
fases,  a  connexion  even  between  the  fainter  feelings  of 
beauty  and  the  most  overwhelming  emotions  of  the  sub- 
lime. 

This  progression  of  our  feelings,  from  one  that  is  geni'e 
and  pleasant  to  one  that  is  powerful,  and  even  painful, 
has  been  illustrated  in  the  case  of  a  person  who  is  suppo- 
ic'  to  behold  a  river  at  its  first  rise  in  the  mountains,  and 
:o  follow  it  as  it  winds  and  enlarges  in  the  subjacent 
plains,  and  to  behold  it  at  last  losing  itself  in  the  expanse 
of  the  ocean.  For  a  time,  the  feelings  which  are  excited 
within  him,  as  he  gazes  on  the  prospect,  are  what  are 
teimed  emotions  of  beauty.  As  the  small  stream  which 
had  hitherto  played  in  the  uplands,  and  amid  fohage  that 
almost  hid  it  from  his  view,  increases  its  waters,  separates 
its  banks  to  a  great  distance  from  each  other,  and  becomes 
the  majestic  river,  his  feelings  are  of  a  more  powerful 
kind.  We  often,  by  way  of  distinction,  speak  of  the  feel- 
ino's  existino-  under  such  circumstances  as  emotions  of 

So, 

grandeur.  At  last  it  expands  and  disappears  in  the  im- 
mensity of  the  ocean :  the  vast  illimitable  w^orld  of  bil- 
lows flashes  in  his  sight.  Then  the  emotion,  "widening 
and  strengthening  with  the  magnitude  and  energy  of  the 
objects  which  accompany  it,  becomes  sublime. — Emotions 
of  sublimity,  therefore,  chiefly  differ,  at  least  in  most  in- 
stances, from  those  of  beauty  in  being  more  vivid. 

^  277.   The  occasions  of  the  emotions  of  subhmity  various. 

As  the  emotions  of  sublimity  are  simple,  they  are  con- 
sequently undefinable.  Nevertheless,  as  they  are  the  di- 
rect subjects  of  our  consciousness,  we  cannot  be  supposed 
to  be  ignorant  of  their  nature.  It  may  aid,  however,  in 
rendering  our  comprehension  of  them  more  distinct  and 
clear  in  some  respects,  if  we  mention  some  of  the  occa 
sions  on  which  they  arise. — But,  before  proceeding  to  d< 
this,  it  is  proper  to  recur  a  moment  to  a  subject  more  full] 
insisted  on  in  the  chapter  on  Beauty,  but  which  also  prop- 
erly has  a  place  here.  We  have  reference  to  the  unqueS" 
tionable  fact,  that  the  occasions  of  sublime  emotions  arc 
not  exclusively  one  5  in  other  words,  are  not  found  in  a 
single  element  merely,  as  some  persons  may  be  likely  tr< 

Co 


302  EMJTIONS    OF    SUKLIMITY. 

suppose,  but,  ike  chose  of  beauty,  are  multiplied  and  va^ 
rious.  The  meas  ire  of  the  sublimity  of  the  objei^t  is  the 
character  of  the  emotion  which  it  excites ;  and  if  the  sub- 
inue  emotion  e:\ists,  as  unquestionably  it  does  on  various 
occasions,  this  of  itself  is  decisive  as  to  the  remark  which 
has  been  made.  Accordingly,  the  proper  object  before 
us,  in  the  first  instance,  seems  to  be  to  indicate  some  of 
these  occasions. 

1}  278.  Greal  extent  or  expansion  an  occasion  of  sublimity 

In  endeavouring  to  point  out  some  of  the  sources  ol 
sublimity,  our  first  remark  is,  that  the  emotion  of  the  sub- 
lime may  arise  in  view  of  an  object  which  is  character- 
ized by  vast  extent  or  expansion ;  in  other  words,  by  the 
attribute  of  mere  horizontal  amplitude.  Accordingly,  it 
is  with  entire  propriety  that  Mr.  Stewart  makes  a  remark 
to  this  effect,  that  a  Scotchman,  who  had  never  witnessed 
anything  of  the  kind  before,  would  experience  an  emotion 
approaching  to  sublimity  on  beholding,  for  the  first  time, 
the  vast  plains  of  Salisbury  and  Yorkshire  in  England. 
Washington  Ir\'ing  also,  in  a  passage  of  the  Alhambra, 
has  a  remark  to  the  same  purport.  "  There  is  something," 
he  observes,  "  in  the  sternly  simple  features  of  the  Span  • 
ish  landscape,  that  impresses  on  the  soul  a  feeling  of 
sublimity.  The  immense  plains  of  the  Castiles  and  La 
Mancha,  extending  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  derive  an 
interest  from  their  very  nakedness  and  immensity,  and 
have  something  of  the  solemn  grandeur  of  the  ocean." 

In  regard  to  the  ocean,  one  of  the  most  sublime  objects 
which  the  human  mind  can  contemplate,  it  cannot  be 
doubted  that  one  element  of  its  sublimity  is  the  unlimited 
expanse  which  it  presents. 

^  279.   Great  height  an  element  or  occasion  of  suuLimit). 

Mere  height,  independently  of  Gonsiderations  of  expan- 
sion or  extent,  appears  also  to  constitute  an  occasion  of 
the  sublime.  Every  one  has  experienced  this,  when 
standing  at  the  base  of  a  very  steep  and  lofty  cliff,  hill, 
or  mountain.  When,  in  the  silence  of  night,  we  stand 
under  the  clear,  open  sky,  we  can  hardly  fail,  as  we  look 
upward,   to   experience   a  sublime  emotion,  occasioned 


EMOTIONS   OF   S'.BLIMITY.  303 

partly  uy  Ihe  immensity  of  the  object,  but  aLo  in  part  by 
its  vifjl  height.  Travellers  have  often  spoken  of  the  sub- 
linn  emotion  occasioned  by  viewing  the  celebrated  Nat- 
ural Bridge  in  Virginia  from  the  bottom  of  the  deep  ra- 
vine, over  which  it  is  thrown.  This  bridge  is  a  single 
solid  rock,  about  sixty  feet  broad,  ninety  teet  long,  and 
forty  thick.  It  is  suspended  over  the  head  of  the  specta- 
tor, who  view^s  it  from  the  bottom  of  the  narrow  glen,  ai 
the  elevation  of  two  hundred  and  thirty  feet ;  an  immense 
height  for  such  an  object.  It  is  not  in  human  nature  tc 
behold,  W'ithout  strong  feeling,  such  a  vast  vault  of  solid 
limestone,  springing  lightly  into  the  blue  upper  air,  and 
remaining  thus  outstretched,  as  if  it  were  the  arm  of  th(^ 
Almighty  himself,  silent,  unchangeable,  eternal. 

^  2S0.   Of  depth  in  connexion  with  the  sulilime. 

It  is  a  circumstance  confirmatory  of  the  view,  that  it  is 
unpossible  to  resolve  the  grounds  of  sublimity  into  a  sin- 
gle occasion  or  element,  that  we  find  the  depth  as  well  as 
tlie  height  of  things,  the  downward  as  well  as  the  upward, 
the  antecedent  and  cause  of  this  emotion.  We  are  doubt- 
ful, however,  whether  depth  is  so  decisively,  as  it  is  cer- 
tainly not  so  frequently  a  cause,  as  elevation  or  height ; 
which  last,  on  account  of  its  frequent  connexion  with  their 
existence,  has  given  the  name  to  this  class  of  feelings 
But  others  may  think  differently.  Mr.  Burke  has  the  fol- 
lowing passage  on  this  point. — "  I  am  apt  to  imagine,  that 
height  is  less  grand  than  depth ;  and  that  we  are  more 
struck  at  looking  dowm  from  a  precipice  than  looking  up 
at  an  object  of  equal  height ;  but  of  that  I  am  not  very 
positive." 

But,  however  this  may  be,  there  is  no  doubt  that  sub- 
lime emotions  may  arise  from  this  cause.  When  we  are 
placed  on  the  summit  of  any  high  object,  and  look  down- 
ward into  the  vast  opening  below,  it  is  impossible  not  to 
be  strongly  affected.  The  sailor  on  the  wide  ocean,  when. 
In  the  solitary  watches  of  the  night,  he  casts  his  eye  up- 
ward to  the  lofty,  illuminated  sky,  has  a  sublime  emotion  : 
and  he  feels  ihe  same  strono;  sentiment  stirrino;  within 
him  when,  a  moment  afterward,  he  thinks  of  the  vast,  un- 
fathom?b]e  abyss  beneath  him,  over  which  re  is  suspended 
■)y"  the  fVi'il  plaok  of  bis  vessel 


304  EM3TI0NS   C?    SJKL'.MITV 

*  281.  Of  colours  in  connexion  with  the  sublirne. 
The  colours  also,  as  well  as  the  form  of  bodies,  may., 
to  a  limited  extent,  fui^nish  the  occasion  of  sublime  emo- 
tions. The  lightning,  when  at  a  distance  it  is  seen  Cmd 
mg  to  the  earth  in  one  continuous  chain  of  overpowermg 
brightness ;  the  red  meteor  shooting  athwart  the  still^ 
dark  sk}^ ;  the  crimson  Aurora  Borealis,  which  occasion- 
ally diffiises  the  tints  of  the  morning  over  the  hemisphere 
*f  midnight,  are  sublime  objects;  and,  although  there  are 
other  elemente  which  unite  in  forming  the  basis  of  tht 
subUme  emotion,  it  is  probably  to  be  ascribed,  in  part,  t^ 
the  richness  and  vividness  of  colours.  What  object  is 
more  sublimely  impressive  than  the  contrasted  hues  of  the 
minoiino"  fires  and  smoke  of  a  burninof  volcano  ?  Dark- 
ness,  particularly,  is  an  element  of  the  sublime.  When 
the  clouds  are  collecting  together  on  some  distinct  and 
distant  portion  of  the  sky,  how  intently  the  eye  fixes  itself 
on  those  masses  which  w^ear  the  visage  of  the  deepest 
gloom !  Forests,  and  frowning  cliffs,  and  mountains,  and 
the  wide  ocean  itself,  and  whatever  other  objects  are  sus- 
ceptible of  sublimity,  are  rendered  still  more  sublime  by 
the  shades  and  darkness  that  are  sometimes  made  to  pass 
over  them.  The  poets  of  all  countries  have  represented 
the  Deity,  the  most  sublime  object  of  contemplation,  as 
enthroned  in  the  midst  of  darkness. — "  He  bowed  the 
heavens  also,  and  came  down ;  and  darkness  was  under 
his  feet.  He  xa?idL&-darkness  his  secret  place ;  his  pavil- 
ion round  about  were  dark  waters,  and  thick  clouds  of  the 
skies." 

^  282.   Of  sounds  as  furnishing  an  occasion  of  suonu.a  emotions. 

We  find  another  element  of  the  sublime  in  sounds  of  a 
certain  description.  There  are  some  cries  and  voices  of 
unimals  which  are  usually  regarded  as  sublime.  The  roai 
of  the  lion,  not  only  in  the  solitudes  of  his  native  deserts, 
but  at  all  times,  partakes  of  the  character  of  sublimity. 
The  human  voice,  in  combination  with  a  suitable  numbei 
Df  other  voices,  is  capable  of  uttering  sublime  sounds ; 
and  does,  in  fact,  utter  them  m  performing  many  of  tht 
works  of  the  great  masters  and  composers  of  music 
There  is  no  small  degree  of  sublimity  in  the  low,  deti 


'AMOTIONS    OF    SUBLIMirV.  30D 

murmur  of  the  organ,  independently  of  tiie  moral  ana  re- 
ligious associations  connected  with  it.  It  is  presumed  no 
one  will  doubt,  that  the  trumpet,  in  the  hands  of  a  skilful 
performer,  is  capable  of  originating  sublime  sounds.  Al- 
most ever)'  one  must  have  noticed  a  peculiarly  impressive 
sound  sent  forth  by  a  large  and  compact  forest  of  pines, 
when  waved  by  a  heavy  wind,  which  obviously  has  the 
'ifime  character.  The  hea\'y  and  interminable  sound  of  thf- 
3cean,  as  i+  breaks  upon  the  shore,  is  sublime  ;  and  hardl) 
less  so  the  ceaseless  voice  of  the  congregated  waters  ot 
some  vast  cataract.  To  these  instances  may  be  added 
the  sound  of  a  cannon,  not  only  when  it  comes  from  the 
field  of  battle,  but  at  any  time ;  and  still  more  the 
mighty  voice  of  thunder.  The  latter  sound  is  often  men- 
tioned in  the  Scriptures,  in  connexion  with  the  attributes 
of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  apparently  for  the  purpose 
of  heightening  the  idea  of  his  sublimity.  "  The  Lord 
also  thundered  in  the  heavens,  and  the  Highest  gave  his 
voice." — "  The  voice  of  the  Lord  is  upon  the  waters;  the 
God  of  glory  thundereth." 

We  leave  this  part  of  the  subject  with  introducing  a 
remark  from  Coleridge,  which  goes  to  confirm  the  general 
doctrine  of  the  sublimity  of  some  sounds.  He  had  bee): 
saying  something  of  the  scenery  of  the  lake  of  Rat/e 
burg,  when  he  adds :  "  About  a  month  ago,  before  th» 
thaw  came  on,  there  was  a  storm  of  wind.  During  th» 
whole  night,  such  were  the  thunders  and  howdings  of  tht 
breaking  ice,  that  they  left  a  conviction  on  my  mind  tha^ 
there  are  sounds  more  sublime  than  any  sight  can  be,  more 
absolutely  suspending  the  power  of  comparison,  and  more 
utterly  absorbing  the  mind's  self-consciousness  in  its  total 
attention  to  the  object  working  upon  it."* 

^  2S3    Of  motion  in  connexion  with  the  sublime. 

It  will  be  noticed,  from  the  train  of  thought  which  haa 
bften  pursued,  that  there  is  a  close  analogy  between  beau- 
ty aiid  sublimity,  not  only  in  the  feelings  which  are  origi- 
nated, but  also  in  the  occasions  of  their  origin.  As  the 
<jentiments  of  beauty  were  found  to  be  connected  not 
only  with  the  forms  of  objects,  but  also  with  (colour?  and 
*  The  Friend,  Am.  ed..  pacre  323 

Cc2 


6{)b  EMOTIONS    OF    SUBLlM;r\ 

Bouiiiiiij  &:i  also  are  those  of  sublimity.  And  further- 
more, as  M«;  found  beauty  connecting  itself  with  certain 
kinds  of  motion,  we  find  motion  the  basis  likewise,  in 
some  of  its  modifications,  of  emotions  of  the  sublime. 

We  often  experience,  for  instance,  emotions  of  sublim 
ity  in  witnessing  objects  that  move  with  great  swiftness, 
This  is  one  source  of  the  feelings  we  have  at  ])eholding 
bodies  of  water  rushing  violently  down  a  cataract.  For 
the  same  reason,  although  there  are  undoubtedly  other  el- 
ements of  the  emotions  we  feel,  the  hurricane,  that  hastens 
onward  with  irresistible  velocity,  and  lays  waste  whatev- 
er it  meets,  is  sublime.  And  here  also  we  find  a  cause  of 
part  of  that  sublime  emotion  which  men  have  often  felt, 
on  seeing  at  a  distance  the  electric  fluid  darting  from  the 
cloud  to  the  earth,  and  at  witnessing  the  sudden  flight 
of  a  meteor. 

)  284.  Indications  of  power  accompanied  by  emotions  of  the  sublimi 

The  contemplation  of  mental  objects,  as  w^ell  as  of  ma 
terial,  may  be  attended  with  this  species  of  emotion. 
Power,  for  instance,  is  an  attribute  of  mind,  and  not  oi 
matter,  and  the  exhibition  of  it  is  frequently  sublime.  It 
•.s  hardly  necessary  to  say,  in  making  this  remark,  that 
power  is  not  anything  which  is  addressed  directly  to  the 
outward  senses ;  but  is  rather  presented  to  the  mind  as  an 
object  of  inward  suggestion.  Nevertheless,  the  causes  of 
this  suggestion  may  exist  in  outward  objects ;  and,  when- 
ever this  is  the  case,  the  feelings  with  which  we  contem- 
plate such  objects  are  generally  increased.  In  other 
words,  whatever  sublimity  may  characterize  an  object,  if, 
in  addition  to  its  other  sublime  traits,  it  strongly  suggests 
(o  us  the  idea  of  power,  the  sublime  feeling  is  more  or  lesi^ 
heightened  by  this  suggestion. 

Nothing  can  be  more  sublime  than  a  volcano,  throwing 
out  from  its  bosom  clouds,  and  burning  stones,  and  un» 
mense  rivers  of  lava.  And  it  is  unquestionable,  that  the 
sublime  emotion  is  attributable,  in  part,  to  the  over- 
whelmino"  indications  of  power  which  are  thus  given. 
An  earthquake  is  sublime ;  not  only  in  its  mightier  eflforts 
of  destruction,  but  hardly  less  so  in  those  slighter  trem- 
blings ind  heav'mgsof  the  earth,  w)  ich  indiratc  (lie  foot 


EMOTIOKS   OF   SUBl,IMnvr.  307 

steps  ol  power  rather  than  of  ruin.  The  ocean,  greatlj 
agitatoJ  with  u  storm,  and  tossing  the  largest  navies  as 
'.  in  sport,  possesses,  an  increase  of  subUniity,  on  accoiiat 
jf  the  more  striking  indications  of  power  which  it  at 
iiich  a  time  gives.  The  shock  of  hirge  armies  also,  which 
concentrates  the  most  terrible  exhibition  of  human  ener- 
gy, is  attended  with  an  increased  sublimity  for  the  same 
reason.  But  in  all  these  instances,  as  in  most  others,  the 
sublime  emotion  cannot  be  ascribed  solely  to  one  cause  j 
something  is  to  be  attributed  to  vast  extent ;  something 
to  the  original  effect  of  the  brilliancy  or  darkness  of  col 
ours ;  and  something  to  feelings  of  dread  and  danger. 

i)  2S5.   or  the  original  or  piimary  sublimity  of  objects. 

If  therp  be  a  connexion  between  the  beautiful  and 
sublime ;  if  beauty,  grandeur,  and  sublimity  are  only 
names  for  various  emotions,  not  so  much  differing  in  kind 
as  in  degree,  essentially  the  same  views  which  were  ad- 
vanced in  respect  to  beauty  wdll  hold  here.  It  will  fol- 
low, if  the  contemplation  of  some  objects  is  attended 
with  emotions  of  beauty,  independently  of  associated  feel- 
ings ;  or,  in  other  w^ords,  if  they  have  a  primary  or  origi- 
nal beauty,  that  there  are  objects  also  originally  sublime. 
Hence  w^e  may  conclude,  that  whatever  has  great  height, 
or  great  depth,  or  vast  extent,  or  other  attributes  of  the 
sublime,  will  be  able  to  excite  in  us  emotions  of  sublimi- 
ty of  themselves,  independently  of  the  subordinate  or 
secondary  aid  arising  from  any  connnected  feelings. 

^  286.  Considerations  in  proof  of  the  original  sublimity  of  objects. 

It  may  be  inferred,  that  there  is  such  primary  or  origi- 
nal sublimity  in  some  objects,  not  only  in  view  of  the 
connexion  wdiich  has  been  stated  to  exist  between  the 
beautiful  and  sublime,  but  because  it  is  no  doubt  agreea- 
ble to  the  common  experience  of  men.  But,  in  resting 
the  proposition  (where  undoubtedly  it  ought  to  rest)  on 
experience,  we  must  inquire,  as  in  former  chapters,  into 
me  feelings  of  the  young.  And  this  for  the  obvious  rea- 
son, that,  when  persons  are  somewhat  advanced  in  age, 
it  is  difficult  to  separate  the  primary  from  the  secondary 
01   associated  sublimity.     They  have  then  become  inex- 


308  EMOTIONS    OF    SUBLIMITY 

tricably  mingled  together. — Now  take  a  child,  ;njd  })luce 
him  su('denly  on  the  shores  of  the  ocean,  or  in  full  sight 
of  darkly  wooded  mountains  of  great  altitude,  or  before 
♦.he  clouds,  and  fires,  and  thunders  of  volcanoes ;  and,  in 
most  cases,  he  will  be  filled  with  sublime  emotions ;  hi? 
mind  will  swell  at  the  perception  ;  it  will  heave  to  and 
fro  like  the  ocean  itself  in  a  tempest.  His  eye,  his  coun« 
tenance,  his  gestures,  will  indicate  a  power  of  internal 
feeling,  which  the -limited  language  he  can  command  is 
unable  to  express.  This  may  well  be  stated  as  a  fact, 
because  it  has  been  frequently  noticed  by  those  who  are 
competent  to  observe. 

Again,  if  a  person  can  succeed  in  conveying  to  a  child, 
by  means  of  words,  sublime  ideas  of  whatever  kind,  sim- 
ilar emotions  will  be  found  to  exist,  although .  generally 
in  a  less  degree  than  when  objects  are  directly  presented 
to  the  senses. 

There  is  an  incident  in  the  life  of  Sir  William  Jones 
which  will  serve  to  illustrate  this  statement.  "  In  his  fifth 
year,  as  he  was  one  morning  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a 
Bible  in  his  mother's  closet,  his  attention  was  forcibly  ar- 
rested by  the  sublime  description  of  the  angel  in  the  tenth 
chapter  of  the  Apocalypse ;  and  the  impression  which  his 
imagination  received  from  it  was  never  effaced.  At  a 
period  of  mature  judgment,  he  considered  the  passage  as 
equal  in  sublimity  to  any  in  the  inspired  writers,  and  far 
superior  to  any  that  could  be  produced  from  mere  human 
compositions ;  and  he  was  fond  of  retracing  and'  men- 
tioning the  rapture  which  he  felt  when  he  first  read  it." 
The  passage  referred  to  is  as  follows.  "  And  I  saw 
another  mighty  angel  come  down  from  heaven,  clothed 
with  a  cloud ;  and  a  rainbow  was  upon  his  head,  and  his 
face  was  as  it  were  the  sun,  and  his  feet  as  pillars  of 
fire."* 

^  237.   Influence  of  association  on  emotions  of  sublimity. 

Granting,  therefore,  that  sublime  emotions  are  in  part 
original,  still  it  is  unquestionably  true  that  a  considerable 
share  of  them  is  to  be  attributed  to  association.  As  an 
irustration,  we  may  refer  to  the  effects  of  sounds.     When 

*  Toignmoutli's  Lifo  of  Sir  Willispi  Jones,  Am.  9<(  ,  page  14 


KMOTiOiVS    OF    THE    LUDICROUS  300 

a  :JounJ  suggests  ideas  of  clanger,  as  the  report  of  artille- 
ry and  the  howling  of  a  storm ;  when  it  calls  up  recol- 
lections of  mighty  power,  as  the  fall  of  a  cataract  and 
the  rumbhng  of  an  earthquake,  the  emotion  of  sublimity 
which  we  feel  is  greatly  increased  by  such  suggestions 
Few  simple  sounds  are  thought  to  have  more  of  sublimi- 
Ly  than  the  report  of  a  cannon  ;  but  how  different,  how 
aiurh  o:reatcr  the  strenoth  of  feeling  than  on  other  occa- 
sions,  whenever  we  hear  it  coming  to  us  from  the  fields  of 
actual  conflict !  Many  sounds,  which  are  in  themselves 
inconsiderable,  and  are  not  much  different  from  many  oth- 
ers to  which  we  do  not  attach  the  character  of  sublimity, 
become  highly  sublime  by  association.  There  is  frequent 
ly  a  low,  feeble  sound  preceding  the  coming  of  a  storm, 
which  has  this  character. 

"  Along  the  woods,  along  the  moorish  fens, 
Sighs  the  sad  genius  of  the  coming  storm, 
ilesounding  long  in  fancy's  listening  ear." 

Thompson's  Winter. 

It  is  sometimes  the  case,  that  people,  w^hose  sensibilities 
are  much  alive  to  thunder,  mistake  for  it  some  common 
s<^)unds,  such  as  the  noise  of  a  carriage  or  the  rumbling 
of  a  cart.  While  they  are  under  this  mistake  they  feel 
these  sounds  as  sublime  ;  because  they  associate  with 
ihem  all  those  ideas  of  danger  and  of  mighty  powei 
which  they  custoraarily  associate  with  thunder.  The  hoot 
of  the  owl  at  midnight  is  sublime  chiefly  by  association  j 
also  the  scream  of  the  eagle,  heard  amid  rocks  and  des- 
erts. The  lytter  is  particularly  expressive  of  fierce  and 
lonely  independence;  and  both  are  connected  in  out 
rrir  rxbvanse  with  some  striking  poetical  passages. 


CHAPTER  V. 


EMOTIONS    OF    THE    LUDICROUS 
^  288.   General  tiatiire  of  emotions  of  the  ludicrous. 

L\  prosecuting  the  general  subject  of  emotions,  we  aic 
at!Xt  to  consider  another  'vell-known  class,  which  ara  of 


310  EMOTIONS    OF    IHE    LUDICROUS 

a  character  somewhat  peculiar,  viz.,  emotions  nj  thv.  iud\ 
crous 

It  is  difficult  to  give  a  precise  definition  of  this  feelingj 
although  the  same  may  he  said  of  it  as  in  respect  to  emo- 
lions  oi'  beauty,  that  it  is  a  pleasant  or  delightful  one. 
But  the  pleasure  which  we  experience  receives  a  peculiar 
modification,  and  one  which  cannot  be  fully  conveyed  in 
words,  in  consequence  of  our  perception  of  some  incon- 
gruity in  the  person  or  thing  which  is  the  cause  of  it-  - 
In  this  case,  as  in  many  other  inquiries  in  mental  philoso- 
phy, we  are  obliged  to  rely  chiefly  on  our  own  conscious- 
ness and  our  knowledge  of  what  takes  place  in  ourselves 

h  289.   Occasions  of  emotions  of  the  ludicrous. 

It  may,  however,  assist  us  in  the  better  understanding 
of  them,  if  we  say  something  of  the  occasions  on  which 
the  emotions  of  the  ludicrous  are  generally  found  to  arise. 
And,  among  other  things,  it  is  exceedingly  clear,  that  this 
feeling  is  never  experienced,  except  when  we  notice 
something,  either  in  thoughts,  or  in  outward  objects  and 
actions,  which  is  unexpected  and  uncommon.  That  is  to 
say.  whenever  this  emotion  is  felt,  there  is  always  an  un- 
expected discovery  by  us  of  some  new  relations. — But 
then  it  must  be  observed',  that  the  feeling  in  question  does 
not  necessarily  exist  in  consequence  of  the  discovery  of 
Kuch  new  relations  inerely.  Something  more  is  necessary, 
as  may  be  very  readily  seen. 

Thus  we  are  sometimes,  in  the  physical  sciences,  pre- 
sented with  unexpected  and  novel  combinations  of  the 
properties  and  qualities  of  bodies.  But  whenever  we 
discover  in  those  sciences  relations  in  objects,  which 
were  not  only  unknown,  but  unsuspected,  we  find  no  emo- 
tion of  ludicrousness,  although  we  are  veiy  pleasant!) 
surprised.  Again,  similes,  metaphors,  and  other  like  fig- 
ures of  speech  imply  in  general  some  new  and  unexpect- 
ed relations  of  ideas.  It  is  this  trait  in  them  which  gives 
them  their  chief  force.  But  when  employed  in  serious 
compositions,  they  are  of  a  character  far  from  being  ludi- 
''.rous. 

Hence  we  infer,  that  emotions  of  ludicrousness  do  not 
fexist  on  the  iliscovery  of  new  and  unexoccted  relations. 


Ji MOTIONS   OF   THE    LUDICROUr*.  3  1 1 

unless  there  is  at  the  same  time  a  perception,  oi  supposed 
perception,  of  some  incongruity  or  unsuitableness.  Such 
perception  of  unsuitableness  may  be  expected  to  give  to 
•^he  whole  emotion  a  new  and  specific  character,  which 
(-•very  one  is  acquainted  with  from  his  own  experience, 
but  which,  as  before  intimated,  it  is  difficult  to  express  in 
words. 

^  290.  Oi  what  is  umlcrstood  by  wit. 

Thf;  subject  of  emotions  of  the  ludicrous  is  closely  con- 
nected with  what  is  termed  Wit.  This  last-named  sub- 
ject, therefore,  which  it  is  of  some  importance  to  under- 
stand, naturally  proposes  itself  for  consideration  in  this 
place.  In  regard  to  avit,  as  the  term  is  generally  under- 
stood at  the  present  time,  there  is  ground  to  apprehend, 
IJiat  an  emotion  of  the  ludicrous  is  always,  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree,  experienced  in  every  instance  of  it. 

This  being  the  case,  we  are  led  to  give  this  definition, 
VIZ.  :  Wrr  consists  in  suddenly  presenting  to  the  mind  au 
assemblage  of  related  ideas  of  such  a  kind  as  to  occasion 
feehngs  of  the  ludicrous. — This  is  done  in  a  variety  of 
ways ;  and,  among  others,  in  the  two  follownng. 

9  291.   Of  wit  as  it  consists  in  burlesque  or  in  debasing  objects 

The  first  method  which  wit  employs  in  exciting  the 
feelings  of  the  ludicrous,  is  by  clebasing  those  things 
which  are  grand  and  imposing ;  especially  those  which 
have  an  appearance  of  greater  weight,  and  gravity,  and 
splendour  than  they  are  truly  entitled  to.  Descriptions 
of  this  sort  are  termed  burlesque. 

An  attempt  to  lessen  what  is  truly  and  confessedly  se- 
rious and  important,  has,  in  general,  an  unpleasant  effect, 
very  different  from  that  which  is  caused  by  true  wdt.  And 
yet  it  is  the  case,  that  objects  and  actions  truly  great  and 
sublime  may  sometimes  be  so  coupled  with  other  objects, 
or  be  represented  in  such  new  circumstances,  as  to  excite 
very  different  feelings  from  what  they  would  otherwnse. 

in  the  practice  of  burlesque,  as  on  all  other  occasions 
of  wut,  there  is  a  sudden  and  uncommon  assemblage  of 
related  ideas.  Sometimes  this  assemblage  is  made  by 
means  of  a  fi;)rinal  comparison.  Take,  as  an  instai-ce,  iho 
tnliowino-  r.  uiiparison  fr"-m  Iludibr;is: 


312  EMOTIONS    OF    THE    LUDICROlJS. 

"And  now  had  Phoebus  in  the  lap 
Oi  Thetis  taken  <^iit  his  najj , 
/vnd,  like  a  lobster  boiled,  the  morn 
From  black  to  red  began  to  turn." 

\V<;  find  illustrations  of  burlesque  also  in  those  mstan^ 
Cas  where  objects  of  real  dignity  and  importance  af 
coupled  with  tilings  mean  and  contemptible,  although 
there  is  no  direct  and  formal  comparison  made.  As  in 
(ii'r,  instance  from  the  above-mentioned  book  : 

"  For  when  the  restU  ss  Greeks  sat  down 
So  many  years  before  Troy-town, 
And  were  renowned,  as  Homer  writes, 
For  weil-soled  boots  no  less  than  fights.'' 

in  these  instances  we  have  related  ideas.  In  the  first, 
rliere  is  undoubtedly  an  analogy  between  a  lobster  and 
the  morning,  in  the  particular  of  its  turning  from  dark  to 
red.  But  however  real  it  may  be,  it  strikes  every  one  as 
a  singular  and  unexpected  resemblance.  In  the  othe; 
passage,  it  is  not  clear  that  Butler  has  done  anything 
.■nore  than  Homer,  in  associating  the  renown  of  the  Greeks 
with  their  boots  as  well  as  their  valour.  But  to  us  of  the 
present  day  the  connexion  of  ideas  is  hardly  less  uncom- 
mon and  singular,  not  to  say  incongruous,  than  in  tht^ 
former. 

^  292.  Of  wit  when  employed  in  aggrandizing  objects. 

The  second  method  which  wit  employs  in  exciting 
emotions  of  the  ludicrous,  is  by  aggrandizing  objects 
which  are  in  themselves  inconsiderable.  This  species  of 
wit  may  be  suitably  termed  mock-majestic  or  mock-heroic. 
While  the  former  kind  delights  in  low  expressions,  this  is 
the  reverse,  and  chooses  learned  words  and  sonorous 
combinations.  In  the  following  spirited  passage  of  Pope, 
the  writer  compares  dunces  to  gods,  and  Grub-street  Xxi 
he'ivon : 

"  As  Berecynthia,  while  her  offspring  vie 
In  homage  to  the  mother  of  the  sky, 
Surveys  around  her  in  the  bless'd  abode 
A  hundred  sons,  and  every  son  a  god  ; 
Not  with  less  glory  mighty  Duliiess  crowned, 
Shall  take  through  Grub-street  her  triumphant  rc<*i-!5:5  { 
And  her  Parnassus  glancing  o'er  at  once, 
I'eiiold  a  hundred  sons,  and  each  a  dunce-'' 


EMOTIO.V5>    or    THE    LL'DICr.  )CS  313 

In  this  division  of  wit  are  to  be  included  those  instan- 
ces where  grave  and  weighty  reflections  are  made  on 
mere  trifles.  In  this  case,  as  in  others,  the  ideas  are  in 
some  respects  related,  or  have  something  in  common; 
out  the  grouping  of  them  is  so  singular  and  unexpected, 
that  we  cannot  observe  it  without  considerable  emotion 

"My  galligaskins,  that  have  long  withstood 
The  winter's  fury  and  encroaching  frosts, 
By  time  subdued,  {what  will  not  lime  subdue  ') 
A  horrid  chasm  disclose." 

But  it  IS  not  to  be  supposed  that  wit  is  limited  to  the 
methods  of  assembling  together  incongruous  ideas  which 
have  just  been  referred  to.  A  person  of  genuine  wit  ex- 
cites emotions  of  the  ludicrous  in  a  thousand  ways,  and 
which  will  be  so  diverse  from  each  other,  that  it  will  be 
found  exceedingly  difl^icult  to  subject  them  to  any  rules 

(^  293.   Of  the  character  and  occasions  of  humour. 

Closely  connected  with  the  general  subject  of  ludicrous 
evnotions  and  of  wit,  is  that  of  Humour.  It  is  well  known 
that  we  often  apply  the  terms  humour  and  Immorous  to 
descriptions  of  a  particular  character,  whether  written  or 
given  in  conversation,  and  which  may  be  explained  as 
follows. 

It  so  happens  that  we  frequently  find  among  men  what 
seems  to  us  a  disproportion  in  the;r  passions ;  for  instance, 
when  they  are  noisy  and  violent,  but  not  durable.  We 
find  inconsistencies,  contradictions,  and  disproportions  in 
their  actioicj.  They  have  their  foibles,  (hardly  any  one 
is  Avithout  them,)  such  as  self-conceit,  caprice,  foolish 
partialities,  and  jealousies. — Such  incongruities  in  feeling 
and  action  cause  an  emotion  of  surprise,  like  an  unex- 
pected combination  of  ideas  in  wit.  Observing  them,  as 
we  do,  in  connexion  with  the  acknowledged  high  traits 
and  responsibilities  ;f  human  nature,  we  can  no  more  re- 
frain from  an  emotion  of  the  ludicrous,  than  we  can  on 
seeing  a  gentleman  of  fine  clothes  and  high  dignity  ma- 
king a  false  step  and  tumbling  into  a  gutter.  A  person 
who  can  seize  upon  these  specialities  in  temper  and  con 
duct,  and  set  them  forth  in  a  lively  and  exact  manner,  ia 
called  a  man  of  humour  ;  and  his  descri^itions  are  termed 
humorous  dcscriotions. 

Dn 


314  INSTANCES   OF    t  THER    SIMPLE    EMOTIONS. 

^  294-.   or  llie  practical  ulilily  of  feelings  of  the  ludicious. 

it  is  not  impossible  that  the  feehngs  which  we  have 
examined  in  this  chapter  may  have  tlie  appearance,  t(. 
some  minds,  of  being  practically  useless.  If  this  w^er* 
ihe  fact,  it  would  be  at  variance  with  the  economy  of  iht 
roind  in  other  respects ;  w^hich  gives  evidence  everywhen 
that  its  original  tendencies  are  ingrafted  upon  it  for  somt 
practical  ends.  But  it  is  not  so.  The  feeling  of  the  lu- 
dicrous (or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  the  sense  of  ridicule) 
is  attended  with  results  which,  although  they  may  not  be 
perfectly  obvious  at  first,  w^ill  be  found,  on  a  little  exam- 
ination, to  be  of  no  small  moment.  It  is  entirely  clear, 
that  it  constitutes  one  of  the  important  guides  and  aids 
which  nature  has  appointed  of  human  conduct.  Scarcely 
any  one  is  willing  to  undergo  ridicule,  even  in  its  milder 
and  more  acceptable  forms ;  much  less  to  subject  himself 
to  the  "  world's  dread  laugh."  And  many  persons  would 
be  less  attentive  to  the  decencies  and  proprieties  of  per- 
sonal conduct,  and  of  the  intercourse  of  life,  than  they  are 
in  fact,  w^ere  it  not  for  the  fear  of  this  species  of  retrbu- 
tion.  It  is  true  it  is  not  pow^erful  enough,  nor  is  it  the 
appropriate  instrument  to  attack  the  more  marked  de- 
pravities incident  to  our  nature,  the  strongholds  of  Us 
sin ;  but  it  is  unquestionably  an  effective  and  useful  a^ent 
in  its  application  to  whatever  is  mean,  incongruous,  and 
unseemly. — See,  in  connexion  with  this  subject,  Camp- 
bell's Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,  bk.  i.,  ch.  iii.,  and  Beattit 
on  Laughter  and  Ludicrous  Compositions. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

INSTANCES    OF   OTHER    SIMPLE    EMOTIONS. 
(j  295.  Emotions  of  cheerfulness,  joy,  and  gladness. 

Unler  the  general  head  of  Emotions  there  arc  manj 
otiier  simple  feelings  which  merit  some  attention.  Al« 
though  they  are,  perhaps,  not  less  essential  to  our  nature, 
and  not  less  impoi  tant  than  those  which  have  been  al- 
ceadv  attended  to,  we  do  not  find  so  many  difficulties  iii 


IINSTAKVHS"    OF    OTHER    SIMPLE    EMOTIONS  ii  lO 

thcic  exnmination,  and  but  a  few  remarks  pvill  be  wmit- 
mg  to  explviin  them. 

\Vp  begin  with  the  emotion  ot  cheerfulness.  Of  the 
uature  of  this  feeling  none  can  be  supposed  to  be  igno- 
rant. It  exists,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  throughout  the 
whole  course  of  our  life.  It  is  sef^n  in  the  benignant 
looks,  and  is  heard  in  the  garrulity  of  old  age ;  it  sheds 
its  consolations  over  the  anxieties  and  toils  of  maiihood, 
and  reigns  with  a  sort  of  perpetual  spring  in  youth. 

The  words  joy  and  delight  express  a  high  degiee  oi 
cheerfulness ;  the  feeling  is  the  same  ;  the  difference  is  m 
its  greater  intensity.  The  word  gladness  is  nearly  synon- 
ymous with  these  last,  but  seems  to  be  applied  particu 
larly  when  the  joy  is  of  a  more  sudden  and  less  permanen 
character. 

<5  296.   Emotions  of  melancholy,  sorrow,  and  grief. 

While  there  are  many  things  in  life  which  are  fitted  v. 
make  us  cheerful  and  happy,  every  one  must  know  tha\ 
for  wise  purposes  a  degree  of  bitterness  is  mingled  in  our 
cup,  and  that  circumstances  occur  from  time  to  time 
which  are  of  an  opposite  tendency.  And  these  prove  to 
us  occasions  of  melancholy,  which  is  the  name  of  anothn 
specific  simple  emotion. 

There  are  different  degrees  of  this  emotion,  as  well  as 
of  that  of  cheerfulness.  We  sometimes  express  the  very 
slightest  degree  of  it  by  the  words  uneasiness  or  discon 
lent.  When  the  feeling  oi  melancholy  is  from  any  cir 
■,umstance  greatly  increased,  we  usually  give  it  the  name 
of  sorrow  ;  so  that  sorrow  seems  to  hold  nearly  the  same 
relation  to  melancholy  that  joy  does  to  cheerfulness. 

The  word  griej"  also  has  nearly  the  same  relation  to 
sorrow  that  gladness  has  to  joy.  As  far  as  the  mere  feel- 
mg  is  concerned  which  they  represent,  the  two  words 
grief  and  sorrow  may  be  regarded  as  synonymous  witb 
each  other ;  with  this  exception,  that  the  term  grief  ii 
commonly  employed  when  the  sorrow  exists  suddenly 
and  with  great  strength.  Hence  grief  sometimes  shows 
'tsclf  by  external  signs,  and  even  in  frantic  transports; 
while  sorrow^  even  when  it  is  deeply  rioted,  is  more  aci*. 
e.iidoring,  and  uncommunicative. 


316  INSTANCES    OF    OTHEIl    S'lMPLE    E:\IOriONS 

9  297.    Emotions  of  surprise,  astonishment,  and  wonder. 

Whenever  anything  novel  and  unexpected  presents  it- 
self to  our  notice,  whether  in  nature  or  in  ordinary  events, 
vi^e  experience  a  new  simple  emotion,  distinct  from  any 
which  has  hitherto  been  mentioned,  w^hich  we  call  a  feel- 
ing of  surprise.—  The  word  astonishment,  w^hich  we  fre- 
quently use,  does  not  express  a  different  emotion,  hut  tlie 
same  emotion  in  a  different  degree.  When  the  feeling  is 
exceedingly  strong,  it  seems  to  suspend,  for  a  time,  the 
whole  action  of  the  mind ;  and  we  say  of  a  person  in  such 
«  situation,  not  merely  that  he  is  surprised,  but  is  aston- 
ished or  amazed. 

When  the  facts  or  events  which  occasion  the  surprise 
are  of  such  a  singular  and  complicated  character  as  to 
induce  us  to  dwell  upon  them  for  a  length  of  time,  the 
feeling  arising  is  then  often  called  woixder.  It  is  not, 
however,  a  different  emotion  from  what  we  ordinarily 
call  surprise,  but  the  same  emotion,  modified  by  different 
circumstances. 

It  may  be  added  here,  that  this  emotion  is  highly  im- 
portant to  our  preservation,  security,  and  improvement. 
It  is  in  new  circmustances,  in  untried  and  unexplored  sit- 
uations, that  we  are  particularly  required  to  be  upon  our 
guard,  since  w^e  know  not  what  effects  may  attend  them, 
nor  whether  these  effects  may  prove  good  or  evil  to  us 
Happily  for  us,  the  emotion  of  surprise  and  astonishmeni 
which  we  experience  at  such  times  is  very  vivid,  so  much 
so  as  to  arrest  for  a  time  both  our  perceptions  and  our 
conduct,  and  to  compel  us  to  pause  and  consider  where 
we  are  and  what  is  to  be  done. 

(j  298.  Emotions  of  dissatisfaction,  displeasure,  and  disgust. 

There  is  another  emotion  wdiich  approaches  very  neaj 
10  the  feeling  of  melancholy,  and  still  slightly  differs  from 
it,  which  we  express  by  the  term  dissatisfaction.  It  is  a 
painful  feeling,  though  only  in  a  small  degree ;  but  its 
rjatuvo,  like  that  of  other  simple  emotions,  cannot  be  fully 
understood,  except  by  a  reference  to  the  testimony  of  our 
nv^n  inward  experience. 

When  from  any  circumstance  the  emotic  n  of  dissatis- 
tiftion  exists  in  an  increasec'  degree,  we    jf^en  express 


INSTANCES    OF    OTMLR    SIMPLE    EiVKTl  (ONS  3l' 

this  difference,  although  the  nature  of  the  feeling  remain? 
the  same,  by  another  term,  that  of  displeaxure. 

There  appear  to  be  other  forms  of  the  simple  feehno 
of  dissatisfaction.  The  feeling  of  disgust  is  the  emotion 
of  dissatisfaction,  existing  in  an  increased  degree,  but  un- 
der such  circumstances  as  to  disdngiiish  it,  in  the  view  of 
cur  consciousness,  from  the  feeling  of  displeasure.^  The 
latter  feeling  approximates  more  closely  to  an  emotion  c-i 
hostility  to  the  cause  of  it  than  the  former.  The  terra.-^ 
are  sometimes  used  together,  and  yet  not  as  perfectly 
synonymous ;  as  when  we  say,  that,  on  a  certain  occasion, 
we  were  both  displeased  and  disgusted. 

(}  '2'J9    Emotions  of  diffidence,  modesty,  and  shame. 

There  is  an  emotion,  often  indicated  outwardly  by 
a  half-averted  look,  and  shyness,  and  awkwardness  of 
manner,  expressed  by  the  term  diffidence.  An  interesting 
modification  of  this  feeling,  as  we  suppose  it  to  be,  is 
modesty;  differing  from  diffidence  perhaps  slightly  in 
kind  or  nature,  but  probably  only  in  degree.  Although 
this  feeling  attracts  but  little  notice  in  the  genealogy  of 
our  mental  operations,  and  occupies  but  a  small  space  in 
its  description,  it  is  important  in  its  results.  It  combines 
its  influences  in  connexion  with  the  natural  desire  of  re- 
gard or  esteem,  in  keeping  men  in  their  place,  and  in 
thus  sustaining  that  propriety  of  conduct,  and  those  gra- 
dations of  honour  and  of  duty,  which  are  so  essential  to 
the  existence  and  the  happiness  of  society. 

A  higher  degree  of  this  mental  state  is  shame.  When 
we  find  ourselves  involved  in  any  marked  improprieties 
of  conduct,  this  feeling  exists ;  characterized  outwardl^jr 
by  a  downcast  eye  and  a  flushed  countenance.  It  is 
not,  however,  exclusively  attendant  upon  guilt ;  although 
guilt,  among  other  consequences  flowing  from  it,  is  in 
part  p finished  in  this  way.  But  it  seems  to  be,  rather,  an 
appro].riate  punishment,  attendant  on  those  minor  viola- 
tions o-f  decency  and  order  which  may  exist  without  arj 
infringement  on  mords. 

^  300.   Emotions  of  regard,  reverence,  and  adoration. 

different   from  «il]  the  feelings  which  hare  now  bene 
Dp2 


3 IS  INSTANCES    C?    OTHER    SIMPLE    EMOTIONS, 

mentioned  is  the  emotion  of  regard  or  respect,  whish,  ir 
its  simplest  form,  at- least,  we  exercise  towards  the  great 
mass  of  our  fellow-beings.  The  mere-  fact  that  they  are 
creatures  of  God,  and  are  possessed  of  mtellectual  and 
moral  powers  like  our  own,  is  deemed  sufficient  to  lay  th(i 
foundation  of  the  exercise  of  this  fee'ing  towards  them. 

When  we  observe  in  any  individuals  marked  traits  ot 
mental  excellence,  as  wisdom,  truth,  and  justice,  espe- 
cially when  these  traits  are  expanded  and  exalted  by 
great  age,  the  feeling  of  respect  which  we  exercise  in  or- 
dinary cases  is  heightened  into  reverence.  Every  country 
can  boast  of  a  few  such  men,  the  just  objects  of  the 
deepened  regard  of  reverence ;  and  the  eyes  of  success- 
ive generations  have  been  turned  with  the  same  deep 
feelings  towards  those  wdio  are  scattered  along  in  varioas 
places  in  the  long  tract  of  history. 

When  the  reverence  or  veneration  is  free  from  every 
irrferior  intermixture ;  in  other  words,  when  the  object  of  it 
is  regarded  as  without  weakness,  and  possessed  of  every 
possible  perfection,  it  then  becomes  adoratio7i ;  a  homage 
of  the  soul  so  pure  and  exalted  that  it  properly  belongs 
only  to  the  Supreme  Being.  The  wisdom  of  ihe  wu^est 
men  is  often  perplexed  with  errors  ;  the  goodness  of  the 
best  of  men  is  marred  by  occasional  infirmities;  how 
much  deeper,  therefore,  and  purer,  and  m^re  elevated, 
vvdl  be  our  sentiments  of  veneration,  when  directed  to- 
wards Him  whose  wdsdom  never  fails,  and  who  is  not 
only  just  and  kind  in  his  administrations,  buJ  the  original 
and  inexhaustible  source  of  beneficence  and  vt>ctiiude  ! 

We  conclude  here  the  examination  of  the  Emotions 
We  would  not  pretend  that  this  part  of  our  sentient  na- 
ture has  been  fully  explored  in  the  views  wbicA  have 
been  taken ;  but  would  hope  that  so  much  has  bet»«  said 
as  to  throw  some  satisfactory  light  upon  it,  and  f*^  '  "ivc 
us  at  liberty  to  turn  to  another  class  cf  subjects. 


THE    SEN>STBILIT1ES. 

PART   FIRST 
NATURAL  OR  PATHEMATIC  SENSIBILITIES 

NATITIAL    OR   PATHEMATIC    SENTIMENTS. 

CLASS    SECOND 
THE  DESIRES. 


CHAPTER  1. 

NATURE    OF    DESmEU. 
V  V)l    Oi  vie  prevalence  of  desire  in  this  deparlmcnt  c     taf  m>ia. 

We  now  proceed  to  enter  upon  a  separate  portiOB 
rtf  the  Natural  or  Pathematic  Sensibilities,  distinguished 
from  that  which  has  hitherto  received  our  attention  by  (he 
possession  of  its  appropriate  nature,  and  by  sustaining  its 
distinct  and  appropriate  relations.  The  characteristic  el- 
ement of  this  region  of  the  Natural  Sensibilities,  thai 
which  in  fact  constitutes  the  basis  of  its  existence,  is  the 
state  of  mind,  distinct  from  all  others,  which  we  denom 
mate  desire.  This  state  of  mind  not  only  stands  at  th( 
threshold  of  the  department  which  we  now  enter  upon, 
but  diffuses  abroad  its  influence,  and  runs  through,  and 
gives  a  character  to,  all  the  subordinate  divisions  into 
which  this  part  of  the  Pathematic  nature  will  be  found 
to  resolve  itself.  No  appetite,  no  propensity,  or  affection 
exists  in  fact,  nor  can  we  suppose  it  possible  for  them  to 
exist,  exclusively  of  any  intermixture  of  the  ingredient  of 
DESIRE. — It  is  for  this  reason  that  we  denominate  this  por- 
tion of  the  sensitive  nature  Desires,  as  we  called  the  oth- 
er Emotions  ;  and  as  we  sometimes  speak  of  the  emoth'E 
sensibilities,  so  we  might,  with  no  impropriet}' ,  speak  of 
tlie  DESIROUS  or  desiring  sensibilities. 

^  302.  The  nature  of  desires  known  from  consciousness 

As  desires  occupy  so  prominent  a  place  in  those  prin- 
iiples  of  the  mind  which  we  now  propose  to  give  some 
account  of,  it  is  proper  to  delay  here,  in  order  briefly  to 
attempt  some  explanation  of  their  nature.  And,  in  do- 
ing this,  we  are  obhged,  in  the  first  place,  to  repeat  the 
remark  already  often  made,  that  we  must  turn  the  acts  ol 
the  mind  inward  upon  itself,  and  consult  the  intimations 
of  our  own  consciousness.  We  do  not  suppose  that  any 
definition  of  desire,  inasmuch  as  it  is  obaously  a  simple 
state  of  the  mind,  could  possibly  throw  any  such  hghl 


322  NJITUKE    OF    BESIIvES 

ujjoii  it  as  to  preclude  the  necessity  of  an  internal  refer 
ence.  It  is  the  light  of  the  mind,  if  we  will  but  turn  oi;i 
eyes  to  oehold  it,  and  that  alone,  which  can  truly  indi  ,at^ 
what  may  be  called  the  essentiality  of  its  nature. --Al 
die  same  time,  while  we  must  obviously  consult  conx/jus- 
nrss  for  a  knowledge  of  its  distinctive  character,  \/c  may 
p;obably  render  our  conceptions  of  it  more  distinct  and 
perfect,  by  considering  some  of  the  circumstancej  or  inci" 
*lints  of  its  origin,  and  some  of  the  relations  it  f.ustains. 

4  303.   Of  the  place  of  desires  in  relation  to  other  mental  stales 

It  is  important  to  possess  a  well-settled  and  definite  idea 
ol  the  place  of  Desires,  considered  in  relation  to  other 
mental  states ;  especially  as  a  thorough  understanding  oi 
this  point  throws  light  upon  the  important  subject  of  the 
philosophy  of  the  Will. — (1.)  And  the  first  remark  to  be 
made  here  is,  that  desires  never  follow,  in  direct  and  iin^ 
mediate  sequence,  to  intellections  or  the  cognitive  acts  oi 
the  mind.  There  is  a  distinct  department  or  portion  of  the 
mind,  located,  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  use  that  expres- 
sion, between  the  intellect  and  the  mental  states  under 
consideration.  It  requires  no  further  proof  than  the  simple 
statement  itself  when  we  say  that  we  never  desire  a  thing, 
simply  because  w^e  perceive  it  or  have  a  knowledge  of  it. 
The  mere  perception  of  a  thing  is  of  itself  no  adequate 
reason  why  we  should  make  the  thing  an  object  of  pur- 
suit. There  must  obviously  be  some  intermediate  state  of 
the  mind,  existing  as  the  proximate  and  causative  occa- 
sion of  desires,  viz.,  an  emotion.  Accordingly,  the  pre- 
requisite condition  to  desire  is  some  antecedent  feeling, 
generally  of  a  pleasurable  nature,  which  intervenes  be- 
tween the  desire,  and  the  perception  or  knowledge  of  the 
iesired  object. 

(2.)  In  illustration  of  what  has  been  said,  it  is  the  fact, 
that,  whenever  we  desire  the  presence  or  possession  of  an 
object,  it  is  because  we  are  in  some  w^ay  pleased  with  it. 
Whenever,  on  the  other  hand,  we  desire  its  removal  from 
our  presence,  it  is  because  we  are  in  some  way  displeas- 
ed with  it.  And  these  expressions,  indicative  of  pleas. 
ure  or  displeasure,  obviously  involve  the  existence  of 
thai  distinct  sta/e  of  the  mind  which  we  denominnte  an 


NATURE    OF   DESIRES  323 

KMOTioN  ;  d  state  of  feeling  entirely  different  both  from  the 
perception  of  the  object  which  goes  before  such  emotioii) 
aiid  the  desire  of  the  object  which  follows  after  it.  Ac 
cordingly,  we  may  feel  at  liberty  to  state,  in  general  terras, 
that  no  man  ever  desired  an  object,  or  could  by  any  pos- 
sibility desi"e  it,  in  regard  to  which  he  had  experienced 
rto  emotion,  but  had  always  been  in  a  state  of  perfect  in- 
•jifferency.  Such,  in  the  matter  under  consideration,  is 
obviously  the  fixed  law  of  the  mind 

0  304.  The  desires  characterized  by  compara  .ve  fixedness  and  peniia 
nency. 

Tliere  is  one  mark  or  trait  attending  the  feelings  un- 
der consideration  which  appears  to  be  w^orthy  of  notice. 
We  refer  to  the  fact,  that  the  desires,  as  compared  with 
the  emotions,  appear  to  possess  a  greater  degree  of  fixed- 
ness or  permanenc>y.  It  is  well  known  that  our  emotions 
rapidly  go  and  come  ;  sinking  and  rising  on  the  mind's 
surface  like  the  unfixed  weaves  of  a  troubled  sea.  But 
the  desires,  which  are  subsequent  to  them  in  the  time  of 
their  origin,  and  may  be  regarded  as  produced  in,  and  as 
emerging  from,  the  troubled  waters  of  emotion,  evidently 
exhibit  less  facility  and  elasticity  of  movement.  Having 
once  entered  their  allotted  position,  although  they  are  not 
absolutely  immoveable,  they  occupy  it  with  so  much  perti- 
nacity as  to  render  it  proper  to  regard  this  as  one  of  their 
characteristics. 

There  certainly  can  be  no  great  effort  necessary  in  un 
derstanding  the  statement  which  has  been  made  ;  and  no 
great  difficulty,  as  we  suppose,  in  recognising  and  su^ 
stantiating  its  truth.  Take,  for  instance,  the  case  of  a 
man  who  is  an  exile  in  a  foreign  land,  or  of  the  unfortu- 
nate individual  who  is  unjustly  condemned  to  the  occu- 
pancy of  a  prison ;  and  they  will  assuredly  tell  you,  thai 
the  desires  they  have  to  see  once  more  the  light  of  heav- 
en, their  native  land,  and  the  countenances  of  their  friends, 
sustains  itself  in  their  bosoms  wath  a  pertinacity  which 
defies  all  change  ;  and  that  they  might  as  well  rend  away 
the  fibres  of  the  heart  itself,  as  to  separate  from  it  a  feel- 
ing so  deeply  rooted. — We  give  this  as  an  illustration ;  but 
it  is  more  or  less  so  in  every  case  where  the  desires  have 
decidedly  fixed  themsf^Ues  upon  any  interestins:  topic. 


324  NATURE   OF    DKSniES. 

5  305.  Desires  always  imply  an  object  dcsred. 

An  additional  characteristic  of  Desires  is,  that  they  al 
ways  have  an  object,  generally  a  distinct  and  well-detinea 
one ;  and  cannot  possibly  exist  without  it.  To  speak  of 
a  desire,  without  involving  the  idea  of  an  object  desired, 
'j»  3uld  be  an  anomaly  in  language.  They  differ  in  this 
aspect  from  emotions  ;  which,  although  they  have  their 
Titecedent  causes  or  occasions,  do  not  possess,  in  their 
own  nature,  a  prospective  or  anticipative  bearing,  but 
terminate  in  themselves.  Desires,  on  the  contrary,  are 
always  pointing  onward  to  what  is  to  be  hereafter.  Anc 
this  is  probably  one  reason  of  their  greater  degree  of  fix- 
edness or  permanency.  The  desires  lean  upon  the  objects 
which  they  have  in  view,  as  a  sort  of  pillar  of  support ; 
they  may  "be  said,  with  strict  truth  at  the  bottom  of  the 
expression,  to  cling  around  it  as  the  vine  encircles  and 
rests  itself  upon  the  elm  ;  and,  of  course,  are  not  left 
loose  and  fluttering,  which  is  substantially  the  case  with 
the  states  of  mind  which  immediately  precede  them,  at 
the  mercy  of  every  passing  wind. 

I)  306.  The  fulfilment  of  desires  attended  with  enjoyment. 

As  a  general  thing,  it  may  be  said  of  the  emotions  thai 
they  are  either  pleasant  or  painful,  although,  in  some  in- 
stances,  even  of  those  feelings  it  might  not  be  easy  to 
predicate  distinctly  and  confidently  either  the  one  or  the 
othfr.  And  this  last  statement  is  true  particularly  of  the 
desires  ;  which,  although  they  exist  distinctly  and  well- 
defined  in  the  view  of  the  mind's  consciousness,  and  con- 
stitute a  powerful  motive  to  action,  can  hardly  be  said,  for 
vhe  time  being,  to  involve,  in  their  own  nature,  eithej 
pleasure  or  its  opposite.  At  any  rate,  we  find  it  difficult, 
in  ordinary  cases,  distinctly  to  detect  either  of  these  traits. 

But,  however  this  may  be,  there  is  still  another  char- 
acteristic circumstance,  which  aids  in  distinguishing  them 
trom  other  mental  states.  It  is  this.  Every  desire,  when 
the  object  towards  which  it  is  directed  is  atiained,  is  at- 
tended with  a  deg-ee  of  pleasure.  It  is  absolutely  in- 
separable  from  the  nature  of  desire,  that  the  acquisition  of 
the  object  of  its  pursui:,  whether  that  obje:t  be  good  oi 
evil,  will  be  followed  by  the  possession  of  son  e  enioy- 


NATURE    OF    DESIUEh. 


32.": 


icenl      SDmetimes  tlic  cnjo3-ment  is  very  great,  at  oihers 
less ;  varying  generally  with  the  intcnsit)-  of  the  desire. 

<)  307 .  Of  variations  or  degrees  in  tlie  strength  of  the  desires. 

There  is  this  further  statement  to  be  made  in  referer''-* 
to  the  Desires,  applicable,  however,  to  a  multitude  of 
other  states  of  the  mind,  that  they  exist  in  different  de- 
grir^.  As  a  general  thing,  they  will  be  found  to  exist  in 
a  oreater  or  less  degree,  in  accordance  with  the  greatei 
or  less  vividness  and  strength  of  the  antecedent  emotions, 
The  original  cause,  how^ever,  of  these  variations,  making 
allowance  for  some  occasional  3ons*:itutional  differences, 
is  to  be  sought  for  in  the  intellect  or  understanding.  The 
more  distinctly  we  perceive  or  understand  a  thing,  the 
more  distinct  and  vivid,  we  may  reasonably  expect,  wall 
be  our  emotions.  And  as  the  Desires  are  based  upon  the 
emotions  as  the  antecedent  occasion  or  ground  of  their 
existence,  they  may,  in  like  manner,  be  expected  to  ex- 
hibit, as  has  already  been  intimated,  a  vividness  and 
strength,  corresponding,  in  a  very  considerable  degree,  to 
that  of  the  feelings  which  preceded  them. — It  will  be 
noticed,  that  we  do  not  speak  here  of  the  permanency  of 
desires,  which  is  a  very  dillerent  thing,  but  simply  of  thei: 
intensity  or  strength  for  the  time  being. 

^  303.  Tendency  to  excite  movement  an  attribute  of  desire. 

We  shall  conclude  this  notice  of  the  nature  of  desire 
with  remarking  that  there  is  one  other  characteristic  at- 
tribute which  particularly  distinguishes  it,  and  which  un- 
doubtedly must  enter  as  an  element  into  every  perfect 
delineation  of  it.  Such  is  the  nature  of  desire,  that  it  is 
of  itself,  in  viitue  of  its  own  essence,  a  prompting,  exci- 
'ing,  or,  as  Mr.  Hobbes  wou.'d  term  it,  a  motive  state  ol 
the  mind.  In  other  words,  its  very  existence  involves  the 
probability  of  action ;  it  sets  the  mind  upon  the  alert ;  u 
arouses  the  faculties,  both  mental  and  bodily,  and  places 
them  in  the  attitude  of  movement. — It  is  true  that  the 
desire  does  not,  in  point  of  fact,  always  result  in  action, 
{{efore  action  can  be  consummated,  another  power,  still 
more  remote  in  the  interior  structure  of  the  mind,  must  be 
coasulted,  that  of  die  Will.  If  the  Will  decidedly  oppo- 
Ek 


326  NATURE    OF    DESIRES 

ses  the  desire,  it 5  tendency  is,  of  course,  frustrated  m  Im 
object  aimed  at ;  but  the  tendency  itself,  although  di.sap- 
pointed  of  its  object,  still  remains.  It  is  there,  and  can- 
not be  otherwise  than  there, while  tlie  desire  exists. 

This  important  tendency  does  not  exist,  as  a  general 
Ihing,  in  other  departments  of  the  mind.  It  does  not  ex- 
ist, for  instance,  in  the  cognitive  or  intellective  part  of  th? 
mind,  in  itself  considered,  if  the  intellect  were  insulated 
from  the  nature  which  is  back  of  it,  man  would  be  a  being 
of  speculation  merely,  not  of  action.  Nor  does  it  exist  in 
che  emotions.  If  man  were  formed  with  the  emotive  sen- 
sibilities only,  without  the  accompaniment  of  those  ulterioi' 
sensibilities  which  are  built  upon  them,  he  would  be  as 
unmoved  and  inoperative  as  if  he  were  constituted  with 
the  single  attribute  of  perceptivity.  He  would  be  like  a 
ship  anchored  in  the  centre  of  the  ocean,  agitated  am\ 
thrown  up  and  down  on  the  rising  and  falling  billows, 
but  wholly  incapable  of  any  movement  in  latitude  or 
longitude.  The  tendency  to  excite  movement,  as  an  in- 
herent or  essential  characteristic,  exists  in  the  desires,  and 
nowhere  else,  except  in  the  corresponding  portion  of  the 
moral  sensibilities,  viz.,  the  feelings  of  moral  obligation. 
The  tendency  in  question  belongs  to  these  two  mental 
states  alike. — It  is  the  office  of  the  Will,  as  a  separate 
and  relatively  a  higher  part  of  our  nature,  to  act  in  refer- 
ence to  this  tendency,  cither  in  checking  or  aiding,  in 
annulling  or  consummating  it. 

^  309.   Classification  of  this  part  of  the  sensibilities. 

If  we  were  called  upon  to  consider  the  Desires  in  then 
simplest  form  only,  we  might  perhaps  feel  at  liberty  t( 
dismiss  the  subject  with  what  has  already  been  said.  Bui 
the  circumstance  that  they  are  subject  to  various  modifi- 
calicns  and  combinations  sets  us  upon  a  new  field  of  in- 
quiry of  great  extent  and  interest.  The  Desires  are  some- 
times modified  by  being  directed  to  particular  ends.  In 
other  words,  they  are  constituted  with  specific  tendencies, 
from  which  they  seldom  vary.  This  is  the  case  with  the 
Instincts,  properly  so  called ;  and  probably  not  less  so,  in 
Iheir  original  and  unperverted  action,  with  the  Appetites. 
In  teoard  to  the  Affections,  a  distinct  class  of  the  active  ■oi 


NATURE   OF   UESIRE3  327 

sensitive  principles  which  come  under  ihis  general  h«acl^ 
it  seems,  as  far  as  we  can  judge,  to  be  the  fact,  that  tht: 
DEsniES  exist  in  a  close  and  inseparable  combination  with 
certain  emotions,  and  are  thus  made  to  assume  ui  ar^pect 
which  they  would  not  otherwise  possess.  Accordingly, 
we  have  a  basis,  an  ample  and  distinctly  defined  one,  ibr 
1  subordinate  classification.  And  it  is  to  the  examination 
cf  the  Desires,  as  they  exist  in  this  classification,  that  we 
now  proceed ;  beginning  with  those  which,  in  the  grada- 
ticns  of  regard  we  are  naturally  led  to  bestow  upon  them, 
are  generally  adjudged  as  lowest  in  point  of  rank,  and 
proceeding  upward  to  those  wdiich  are  higher.  In  ac- 
cordance with  this  plan,  they  will  present  themselves  to 
notice,  and  be  made  the  subject  of  distinct  consideration, 
in  the  order  of  the  Instincts,  the  Appetites,  the  Propensi- 
r.ips,  and  the  Affections. 

^  310.  The  principles,  based  upon  desire,  susceptible  of  a  twofold 
operation. 

There  is  one  important  remark  which  is  applicable  to 
all  the  principles,  with  the  exception  of  the  Instincts, 
which  now  present  themselves  for  examination.  It  is, 
that,  with  the  exception  just  mentioned,  they  all  have  a 
twofold  action,  instinctive  and  voluntary.  This  state- 
ment, of  course,  will  not  apply  to  the  pure  instincts ;  for 
the  very  idea  of  their  being  instincts,  in  the  proper  sense 
of  the  term,  seems  to  imply  an  absolute  exclusion  of  theii 
being  voluntaiy.  But  as  we  advance  from  the  Instin(  ts 
to  the  Appetites,  and  still  upward  to  the  Propensities  and 
Affections,  we  find  each  and  all  of  these  important  prin- 
ciples susceptible  of  being  contemplated  in  this  twofold 
aspfcct.  Each,  under  circumstances  of  such  a  natiu'e  as 
lo  preclude  inquiry  and  reflection,  is  susceptible  of  an  in- 
stinctive action;  and  each,  under  other  circumstances 
more  favourable  to  the  exercise  of  reasoning,  is  suscepti- 
ble of  a  deliberate  or  voluntary  action. — This  remark  is> 
fjnportant  in  our  estimate  of  these  prin(?iple.s,  coasi  iered 
la  a  moral  point  of  -"-iew. 


328        .  :NSTiNCTa 

CHAPTER  IL 

INSTINCTS. 
*  311.   Of  instimts  ir  it  an  as  compared  with  those  of  inl'ci.cr  anunala 

In  proceeding  to  examine  that  part  of  our  sensitive 
■constitution  which  is  comprehended  under  the  geneia; 
name  of  Desires,  we  naturally  begin  with  instincts,  which 
are  nothing  more  than  desires,  existing  under  a  particular 
and  definite  modification. — It  is  generally  conceded,  that 
there  are  in  our  nature  some  strong  and  invariable  ten- 
dencies to  do  certain  things,  without  previous  forethought 
and  deliberation,  which  bear  that  name.  The  actions  of 
men  are  not  always  governed  by  feelings  founded  on  rea- 
sonincT,  but  are  sometimes  prompted  by  quick  and  decisive 
impulses,  which  set  themselves  in  array  before  reason  has 
time  to  operate.  It  is  from  this  circumstance  that  these 
mental  tendencies  or  desires  are  termed  instinctive ;  a 
word  which  implies,  in  its  original  meaning,  a  movement 
or  action,  whether  mental  or  bodily,  without  reflection 
and  foresight. 

Although  such  instinctive  tendencies  are  undoubtedly 
found  in  men,  it  must  be  admitted  that  they  are  less  fre- 
quent, and,  in  general,  less  effective,  than  in  the  lowei 
animals.  And,  in  truth,  it  could  not  be  expected  to  be 
otherwise,  when  we  remember  that  the  brute  creation  are 
wholly  destitute  of  the  powers  of  abstraction  and  of  rea- 
soning, or,  at  most,  possess  them  only  in  a  small  degree 
The  provident  oversight  of  the  Supreme  Being,  without 
whose  notice  not  a  sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground,  has  met 
this  defici(!ncy  by  endowing  them  \^Tith  instincts  the  most 
Tarious  in  kind,  and  strikingly  adapted  to  the  exigencKi 
of  their  situation.  We  find  the  proofs  of  this  remark  in 
the  nests  of  birds,  in  the  ball  of  the  silkworm,  in  the 
house  of  the  beaver,  in  the  return  and  flight  of  birds  a*, 
their  appointed  seasons,  and  in  a  muhitude  of  ether  irv 
stances. 

(j  312.   Illustrations  of  I'.e  instincts  of  brute  animals. 

It  WO' lid  be  easy,  bv  me  ins  of  various  interestin 


INSTII/CTS.  3j29 

to  iliustiate  the  nature  of  tVie  instinctive  jvinciple. — The 
philosopher  Galen  once  took  a  kid  froiri  its  dead  raothe: 
by  dissection,  and,  before  it  had  tasted  any  food,  broughl 
it  into  a  certain  room,  having  many  vessels  full,  i:ome  ol 
wine,  some  of  oil,  some  of  honey,  some  of  milk,  or  som< 
other  liquor,  and  many  others  filled  with  ditferent  sorts  ol 
grain  and  fruit,  and  there  laid  it.  After  a  little  time  the 
embryon  had  acquired  strength  enough  to  get  up  on  its 
feet ;  and  it  was  with  sentiments  of  strong  admiration 
that  the  spectators  saw  it  advaice  tow^ards  the  liquors, 
fruit,  3nd  grain,  which  were  placed  round  the  room,  and, 
havino-  smelt  all  of  them,  at  last  sup  the  milk  alone. 
About  two  months  afterward,  the  tender  sprouts  of 
plants  and  shrubs  were  brought  to  it,  and,  after  smelling 
all  of  them  and  tasting  some,  it  began  to  eat  of  such  p.- 
are  the  usual  food  of  goats. 

The  cells  constructed  by  the  united  efforts  of  a  hive  of 
bees  have  often  been  referred  to  as  illustrating  the  nature 
of  instincts. — "  It  is  a  curious  mathematical  prob.em," 
says  Dr.  Reid,  "  at  what  precise  angle  the  thi-ee  planes 
W'hich  compose  the  bottom  of  a  cell  in  a  honey-comb 
ought  to  meet,  in  order  to  make  the  greatest  saving  or  the 
least,  expense  of  material  and  labour.  This  is  one  of  those 
problems  belonging  to  fne  higher  parts  of  mathematics, 
which  are  called  problems  of  maxima  and  Tninima.  It 
has  been  resolvecl  by  some  mathematicians,  particularly 
by  the  ingenious  Mr.  Maclaurin,  by  a  fluxionary  calcula- 
tion, which  is  to  be  found  in  the  Transactions  of  the 
Royal  Society  of  London.  He  has  determined  precisely 
'..he  angle  required ;  and  he  found,  by  the  most  exact  men- 
erjation  the  subject  could  admit,  that  it  is  the  very  angle 
in  which  the  three  planes  in  the  bottom  of  the  coll  of  a 
honey-comb  do  actually  meet. 

•'  Shall  we  ask  here,  w^ho  taught  the  bee  the  properties 
of  solids,  and  to  resolve  problems  of  maxima  and  mini 
ma  1  We  need  not  say  that  bees  know  none  of  these 
thing's.  They  work  most  geometrically,  without  anv 
Knowledge  of  geometry  ;  somewhat  like  a  child,  who, 
by  turning  the  handle  of  an  organ,  makes  good  music 
without  any  knowledge  of  music.  The  art  is  not  in  thf 
child,  \)ut  in  him  who  made  the  org  in.  In  like  manner 
Ek2 


330  INSTINCTS. 

when  d  bee  makes  its  comb  so  geometrically,  the  geora* 
ivy  is  not  in  the  bee,  but  in  that  great  Geometrician  who 
made  the  bee,  and  made  all  things  in  nmnbcr,  weight, 
•^nd  measure." 

•5  313.  Instances  of  instincts  in  the  human  mind. 

But  it  is  not  our  design  to  enter  particularly  into  the 
subject  of  the  instincts  of  animals  in  this  place,  although 
this  topic  is  undoubtedly  one  of  exceeding  interest  both 
to  the  philosopher  and  the  Christian.  Such  inquiries  are 
too  diverse  and  remote  from  our  main  object,  which  has 
particular,  if  not  exclusive,  reference  to  the  economy  of 
human  nature.  There  are  certain  instinctive  tendencies 
in  man,  as  well  as  in  the  inferior  animals ;  but  they  are 
few  in  number ;  and,  compared  with  the  other  parts  of 
his  nature,  are  of  subordinate  importance.  Some  of  them 
will  now  be  referred  to. 

(T.)  The  action  of  respiration  is  thought,  by  some  wri 
ters,  to  imply  the  existence  of  an  instinct.  We  cannot 
suppose  that  the  infant  at  its  birth  has  learned  the  impor- 
tance of  this  act  by  reasoning  upon  it ;  and  he  is  as  ig- 
norant of  the  internal  machinery  which  is  put  in  opera- 
tion, as  he  is  of  its  important  uses.  And  yet  he  puts  the 
whole  machinery  into  action  at  the  very  moment  of  com- 
ing into  existence,  and  with  such  regularity  and  success 
that  we  cannot  well  account  for  it,  except  on  the  ground 
'if  an  instinctive  impulse. 

(II.)  "  By  the  same  kind  of  principle,"  says  Dr.  Reid, 
l^Essays  on  the  Active  Powers,  iii.,  chapter  ii.,)  "  a  new- 
born child,  when  the  stomach  is  emptied,  and  nature  has 
brought  milk  into  the  mother's  breast,  sucks  and  swallows 
its  food  as  perfectly  as  if  it  knew  the  principles  of  that 
operation,  and  had  got  the  habit  of  working  according 
to  them. 

"  Sucking  and  swallowing  are  very  complex  operations. 
Anatomists  describe  about  thirty  pairs  of  muscles  that 
must  be  employed  in  every  draught.  Of  those  muscles, 
every  one  must  be  served  by  its  proper  nerve,  and  can 
make  no  exertion  but  by  some  influence  communicated 
by  the  nerve.  The  exertion  of  all  those  muscles  and 
uerves  is  not  simultaneous.      They  must  ^recced   each 


INSTINCTS.  33 1 

other  hi  a  certain  order,  and  iheir  order  is  no  less  necessa- 
ry than  the  exertion  itself. — This  regular  train  of  opera- 
tions is  carried  on,  according  to  the  nicest  rules  of  art, 
by  the  infant,  who  has  neither  art,  nor  science,  nor  ex- 
perience, nor  habit. 

"  That  the  infant  feels  the  uneasy  sensation  of  hunger, 
I  admit ;  and  that  it  sucks  no  longer  than  till  this  sensa- 
tion he  removed.  But  who  informed  it  that  this  uneasy 
rensation  might  be  removed,  or  by  wdiat  means  ?  That 
ii  knows  nothing  of  this  is  evident,  for  it  will  as  readily 
suck  a  finger,  or  a  bit  of  stick,  as  the  nipple." 

(III.)  the  efforts  wdiich  men  make  for  self-preserva- 
tion appear  to  be  in  part  of  an  instinctive  kind.  If  a 
man  is  in  danger  of  falling  from  unexpectedly  losing  his 
balance,  we  say  with  much  propriety  that  the  instantane- 
ous effort  he  makes  to  recover  his  position  is  instinctive. 
If  a  person  is  unexpectedly  and  suddenly  plunged  into  a 
river,  the  first  convulsive  struggle  which  he  makes  for  his 
safety  seems  to  be  of  the  same  kind.  His  reasoning 
powers  may  soon  come  to  his  aid,  and  direct  his  further 
measures  for  his  preservation ;  but  his  first  efforts  are  evi- 
dently made  on  another  principle.  When  a  violent  blow 
is  aimed  at  one,  he  instinctively  shrinks  back,  although 
he  knew  beforehand  it  would  be  aimed  in  sport,  and  al 
lhou2"h  his  reason  told  him  there  w^as  no  danger. 

^  314.   Further  instances  of  instincts  in  men. 

(IV.)  There  is  also  a  species  of  resentment  which  may 
properly  be  called  instinctive.  Deliberate  resentment  im- 
plies the  exercise  of  reason,  and  is  excited  only  by  inten- 
tional injury.  Instinctive  resentment,  on  the  other  hand, 
operates  whether  the  injury  be  intentional  or  not,  and 
precisely  as  it  does  in  the  lower  animals. 

Wlien  w^e  experience  pain  which  is  caused  by  some  ex» 
ternal  object,  this  feeling  arises  in  the  mind  with  a  great- 
er  or  less  degree  of  power,  and  prompts  us  to  retaliate  on 
the  cause  of  it.  A  child,  for  instance,  stumbles  over  a 
stone  or  stick  of  w^ood  and  hurts  himself,  and,  under  the 
impulse  of  instinctive  resentment,  violently  beats  the  un- 
conscious cause  of  its  suffernig.  Savages,  when  they  have 
been  s-^ruck  by  an  arrow  in  battle,  have  been  known  to  teai 


332  fNSTINCTS. 

\t  from  the  wound,  break,  and  bite  il  with  their  teeth,  and 
dash  it  on  the  ground,  as  if  the  original  design  and  im- 
petus of  distruction  were  in  the  arrow  itself — Similai 
views  will  apply,  under  certain  cin.umstances,  to  man} 
other  active  principles. 

(V.)  There  is  undoubtedly  danger  cf  carrying  the 
J  5ctrine  of  the  instinctive  tendencies  of  the  human  mind 
loo  far ;  but  we  may  consider  ourselves  safe  in  adding  t;j 
those  which  have  been  mentioned,  the  power  of  interpret- 
ino;  natural  sio;ns.  Whenever  we  see  the  outward  sio;as 
of  rage,  pit}',  grief,  joy,  or  hatred,  we  are  able  immedi- 
ately to  interpret  them.  It  is  abundantly  evident  that 
children,  at  a  very  early  period,  read  and  decipher,  in 
the  looks  and  gestures  of  their  parents,  the  emotions  and 
passions,  whether  of  a  good  or  evil  kind,  with  which  they 
ire  agitated. 

^  315.  Of  the  final  cause  or  use  of  instincts. 

Although  the  instincts,  as  a  general  statement,  coni 
mend  themselves  less  decisively  to  our  regard  and  admi- 
ration than  some  other  portions  of  the  mind,  they  still 
have  their  important  uses.  It  seems,  in  particular,  to  be 
the  design  of  the  instinctive  part  of  our  nature  to  aid  and 
protect  us  in  those  cases  where  reason  cannot  come  sea- 
sonably to  our  aid.  According  as  the  reasoning  powers 
acquire  strength,  and  prepare  themselves  more  and  more 
for  the  various  emergencies  to  which  we  are  exposed,  the 
necessity  of  instinctive  aids  is  proportionally  diminished. 
But  there  are  some  cases  which  the  reasoning  power  can 
never  reach  •  and,  consequently,  our  whole  protection  is  in 
instinct. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  tliat  they  are  a  necessary  pan 
of  om*  constitution ;  that  they  help  to  complete  the  men- 
tal system  ;  and  although  of  subordinate  power  and  value 
m  man,  compared  with  the  inferior  animals,  they  still 
hsTe  their  worth.  As  the  reasoning  power  predominates 
in  man,  so  instincts  predominate  in  the  lower  animals; 
and  as  we  do  not  expect  to  find  the  glory  of  reasoning 
in  brutes,  so  w^e  should  not  exp6»:t  to  discover  the  full  ex- 
cellence of  instinctive  powers  in  men ;  but  should  rathe/ 
look  for  them  in  the  insect  and  ll  o  worm,  in  the  ))east':  n: 


APPETITES.  333 

the  field,  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea,  and  the  fcwls  of  tht 
air,  dwelling  in  them  as  a  part  of  their  nature,  and  bless- 
ing while  they  control  and  guide  them. 


CHAPTER  III. 

APPETITES. 
<i  316.   Of  the  treueral  nature  and  characteristics  of  the  appetites 

Unt)er  the  general  head  of  Desires,  the  subject  of  ap- 
petites seems  next  to  propose  itself  for  consideration. 
But  as  it  is  one  of  limited  extent,  and  of  subordinate  im- 
portance in  a  metaphysical  point  of  view,  only  a  few  re- 
marks wall  be  necessary.  The  arrangement,  which  brings 
'.he  subject  forward  for  discussion  under  the  head  of  De- 
sires, will  recommend  itself  on  a  very  little  attention. 
The  prominent  appetites  are  those  of  hunger  and  thikst; 
but  the  appetite  of  hunger  is  nothing  more  than  the  desire 
for  food ;  the  appetite  for  thirst  is  a  desire  for  drink. 

Nevertheless,  they  appear  to  be  sufficiently  distinguish 
ed  from  the  other  desires.  They  are  not  like  the  instincts, 
always  gratified  in  a  certain  fixed  and  particular  manper ; 
nor  are  they  like  them  in  being  wholly  independent  of 
the  reasoning  power.  On  the  contrary,  they  may  be  re- 
strained and  regulated  in  some  degree ;  and  when  it  is 
otherwise,  their  demands  may  be  quieted  in  various  ways. 

But  without  dwelling  upon  such  considerations,  the 
.statement  has  been  made  with  much  appearance  of  rea 
son,  that  they  are  characterized  by  these  three  things.- 
(1.)  They  take  their  rise  from  the  body,  and  are  common 
to  men  with  the  brutes. — (2.)  They  are  not  constant  in 
cheir  operation,  but  occasional. — (3.)  They  are  accompa- 
nied with  an  uneasy  sensation. 

It  may  be  remarked  here,  that  the  feeling  of  uneasiness 
now  referred  to  appears  alwa^^s  to  precede  tb  e  desire  oi 
appetite,  and  to  be  essential  to  it. 

^3l7.  The  appetites  necessary  to  our  preservation,  and  not  originally 
of  a  selfish  character. 

Although  our  appetites  do  not  present  much  of  inter 


534  APPETITES. 

e^;t,  considered  as  parts  of  our  mental  economy,  the)  lia/fc 
their  important  uses,  in  connex.on  with  the  laws  and  re 
(juirements  of  our  physical  nature. — "  The  appetites  of 
hunger  and  thirst,"  says  Stewart,  "  were  intended  for  the 
preservation  of  the  individual ;  and  without  them  reason 
would  have  been  insufficient  for  this  important  purpose. 
Suppose,  for  example,  that  the  appetite  of  hunger  had 
been  no  part  of  our  constitution,  reason  and  experienrc 
might  have  satisfied  us  of  the  necessity  of  food  to  our 
preservation ;  but  how  should  we  have  been  able,  with- 
out an  implanted  principle,  to  ascertain,  according  to  the 
varying  state  of  our  animal  economy,  the  proper  seasons 
for  eating,  or  the  quantity  of  food  that  is  salutary  to  the 
body  ?  The  lower  animals  not  only  receive  this  informa- 
tion from  nature,  but  are,  moreover,  directed  by  instinct 
to  the  particular  sort  of  food  that  it  is  proper  for  them 
to  use  in  health  and  in  sickness.  The  senses  of  taste  and 
smell,  in  the  savage  state  of  our  species,  are  subservient, 
at  least  in  some  degree,  to  the  same  purpose. 

"  Our  appetites  can  with  no  propriety  be  called  selfish, 
for  they  are  directed  to  their  respective  objects  as  ultimate 
ends,  and  they  must  all  have  operated,  in  the  first  instance, 
prior  to  any  experience  of  the  pleasure  arising  from  their 
gratification.  After  this  experience,  indeed,  the  desire 
of  enjoyment  will  naturally  come  to  be  combined  with  the 
appetite ;  and  it  may  sometimes  lead  us  to  stimulate  or 
provoke  the  appetite  with  a  view  to  the  pleasure  which 
is  to  result  from  indulging  it.  Imagination,  too,  and  the 
association  of  ideas,  together  with  the  social  affections, 
and  sometimes  the  moral  faculty,  lend  their  aid,  and  all 
conspire  together  in  forming  a  complex  passion,  in  which 
the  animal  appetite  is  only  one  ingredient.  In  proportion 
as  this  passion  is  gratified,  its  influence  over  the  conduct 
becomes  the  more  irresistible,  (for  all  the  active  determi- 
nations of  our  nature  are  strengthened  by  habit,)  till  ai 
!ast  we  struggle  in  vain  against  its  tyranny.  A  man  so 
enslaved  by  his  animal  appetites  exhibits  humanity  in  one 
of  its  most  miserable  and  contemptible  forms."* 

{  318.  Of  the  prevalence  and  origin  of  appetitet-  fox  iritoxica.ting  drug« 

There  are  not  only  natura:  appetites,  but  artificial  ot 

*  Sirwiirrs  l^liilosoDhv  .i''"iiie  Moral  aii!'  Activf'  Powers,  bk    i.,  ch.  i 


APPETITES  335 

acquired  ones.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  find  personi 
who  have  formed  an  appetite  for  ardent  spirits,  for  to* 
bacco,  for  opium,  and  intoxicatino-  drugs  of  various  kinds. 
It  is  a  matter  of  common  remark,  that  the  appetite  foi 
inebriating  liquors,  in  particular,  is  very  prevalent,  espe- 
cially among  Savage  tribes. — And  it  may  be  proper  briefly 
to  explain  the  origin  of  such  appetites. 

Such  drugs  and  liquors  as  have  been  referred  to  have 
tlie  power  of  stimulating  the  nervous  system,  and  b} 
means  of  this  excitement  they  cause  a  degree  of  pleasure. 
This  pleasurable  excitement  is  soon  followed  by  a  corre- 
sponding degi-ee  of  languor  and  depression,  to  obtain  re- 
lief from  which  resort  is  again  had  to  the  intoxicating 
draught  or  drug.  This  results  not  only  in  a  restoration, 
but  an  exhilaration  of  spirits ;  which  is  again  followed  by 
depression  and  distress.  And  thus  resort  is  had,  time  after 
time,  to  the  strong  drink,  the  tobacco,  the  opium,  or  what- 
ever it  is  which  intoxicates,  until  an  appetite  is  formed 
so  strong  as  to  subdue,  lead  captive,  and  brutalize  the 
subject  of  it.  So  that  the  only  way  to  avoid  the  forming 
of  such  a  habit,  after  the  first  erroneous  step  has  been 
taken,  is  quietly  to  endure  the  subsequent  unhappiness 
attendant  on  the  pleasurable  excitement  of  intoxication, 
till  the  system  has  time  to  recover  itself,  and  to  throw  off 
its  wretchedness  by  its  own  :!fForts. 

^  319.   Of  the  twofold  operation  and  the  morality  of  the  appetites. 

In  accordance  with  the  remarks  in  the  last  section  in 
the  chapter  on  the  Nature  of  desires,  we  may  add  here 
the  general  statement,  that  the  operation  of  all  the  Appe- 
tites, of  whatever  kind,  is  twofold,  instinctive  and  vol- 
UNTARY.  So  far  as  they  are  directed  to  their  objects  as 
ulthnate ^ends,  without  taking  into  consideration  anything 
the,  their  operation  is  obviously  analogous  to  that  of  the 
pure  instincts.  But  after  the  first  instance  of  their  grati' 
fication,  they  may  be  instigated  to  subsequent  action,  not 
so  much  by  a  view  of  the  ultimate  object  as  of  the  pleas- 
ure accessoiy  to  its  acquisition.  And  thus  it  sometimes 
happens,  that  their  action,  in  view  of  the  enjoyment  before 
them,  is  turbulent  and  violent.  Nevertheless,  we  may 
avail  ourselves  of  the  aid  of  other  principles  of  th(;  mind 


336  .PROPENSITIES. 

CO  subject  them  to  a  degree  of  restraint,  to  regulate,  and 
m  a  certnin  sense,  to  cultivate  them.  And,  so  far  as  this 
can  be  done,  they  are  obviously  susceptible  of  what  nav 
be  called  a  voluntary  action. 

And  here  is  the  basis  of  the  morality  of  the  appetUw 
So  far  as  they  are  susceptible  of  a  merely  instinctive  ac- 
tion, they  cannot  be  said  to  possess  any  moral  character, 
either  good  or  bad.  They  are  greatly  useful  in  their 
place ;  but,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  are  to  be  regarded 
simply  as  innocent.  It  is  only  so  far  as  they  are  volu.n- 
tary,  so  far  as  they  can  be  reached  and  controlled  by  the 
will,  that  they  can,  by  any  possibility,  be  morally  good 
or  evil,  virtuous  or  vicious.  So  that  virtue  and  vice,  con- 
sidered in  relation  to  the  appetites,  is  located,  not  in  th'" 
appetites  themselves  in  their  intrinsic  nature,  but  in  their 
exercises ;  and  in  those  exercises  only  which  are  subc  > 
dinate  to  the  influence  of  the  will. 


CHAPTER  iV. 


PROFENSITIES. 


?  i520.   General  remarks  on  the  nature  of  the  propensities. 

As  we  advance  further  in  the  examination  of  this  por^ 
tion  of  the  natural  or  pathematic  sensibilities,  we  meet 
with  certain  forms  of  Desire  which  are  different  from  any 
we  have  hitherto  attended  to,  and  which  accordingly  re- 
quire a  distinct  consideration.  There  is  certainly  no  dan- 
ger of  their  being  confounded  with  the  Instincts,  inas* 
much  as  they  do  not  exhibit  that  fixedness  and  infiexible- 
ness  of  action  which  is  usually  characteristic  of  those 
states  of  mind.  They  differ  from  the  Appetites  also, 
first,  because  they  are  much  less  dependent  for  their  ex- 
istcnce  and  exercise  upon  the  condition  of  the  body  j 
and,  secondly,  because  in  that  comparative  estimation 
■which  is  naturally  attached  to  the  different  active  princi- 
pk's  of  our  nature,  they  confessedly  hold  a  higher  rank. 
At  the  same  time  they  evidently,  in  the  graduation  of  oui 


PROPENSITIES.  337 

i*egi.rd,  fall  below  the  Affections,  besides  oeiiig  distir.- 
IjKished  from  them  in  some  other  respects.  Hence  we 
may,  with  entire  propriety,  not  only  assign  them  a  separ- 
ate and  distinct  position,  but  shall  fmd  a  convenience  iii 
designating  them  by  a  distinctive  name. — Among  the 
Propensities  (for  this  is  the  name  which  we  propose  to  at- 
tach to  them)  may  be  mentioned  the  principle  of  self 
preservation,  or  the  desire  of  contii:  aed  existence ;  curiosi- 
ty, or  the  desire  of  knowledge ;  sociality,  or  the  desire  of 
s«3ciety ;  self-love,  or  the  desire  of  happiness ;  the  desire  of 
asteem,  the  propensity  to  imitate,  and  some  others. 

Although  we  have  briefly  indicated  some  of  the  cir- 
cumstances which  separate  the  Propensities  from  the  oth- 
er leadmg  principles  coming  under  this  general  head,  it 
will  be  noticed  that  we  have  not  attempted  to  give  a 
statement  of  what  they  are  in  themselves.  It  is  true,  they 
are  all  based  upon  desire,  and  they  all  have  some  object 
But  whatever  is  intrinsic  or  specifically  characteristic  in 
their  nature  will  be  best  learned  from  the  considerations 
that  will  necessarily  arise,  as  they  pass  successively  under 
review. 

I)  321.  Principle  of  self-preservation,  or  the  desire  of  continued  existern  t- 

The  fust  of  those  original  desires  which  we  shall  pro- 
ceed to  notice  may  be  denominated  the  principle  of  self- 
preservation,  or  the  desire  of  a  continuance  of  existence. 
— The  proof  of  the  existence  of  such  a  desire  is  not  only 
abundant  in  what  we  see  around  us,  but  is  so  intimate 
also  to  our  own  consciousness,  that  it  can  hardly  be  ne- 
cessary to  enter  into  details.  "  All  that  a  man  hath  will 
he  give  for  his  life,"  was  a  sort  of  moral  axiom  in  the 
earliest  antiquity ;  and  It  stands  as  little  in  need  of  the 
verifioation  of  proof  now  as  it  did  then.  It  is  true  thai 
the  principle  may,  in  its  practical  operation,  be  over- 
come by  the  ascendant  influence  of  other  principles,  by 
(he  mere  desire  of  esteem,  by  the  love  of  country,  or  by 
the  sentiments  of  d  uty ;  but,  although  annulled  in  its  re- 
sults, it  can  hardly  be  said  to  be  extinct  in  its  nature.  It 
still  lingers,  unextinguished  and  unextinguishable,  in  the 
loundations  and  depths  of  the  mind.  Even  in  cases  of 
suicide,  the  r.esire  of  the  extinction  of  life  which  is  sui> 
Ff 


33s  PROPENSITIES. 

posed  tt  exist  ib  not  absolute  but  re-dtive ;  the  self-mur 
ilerer  would  still  cling  to  existence  if  it  could  be  possess 
ed  separate  from  the  evils  which  attend  it ;  it  is  not  life 
in  itself  considered,  which  he  hates,  but  the  variety  of  un- 
pleasant circumstances,  either  actual  or  imagined,  whicfc 
are  connected  with  it. 

V  322.  Of  the  uvofold  action  of  the  principle  of  self-preservavioii. 

The  principle  of  self-preservation,  or  desire  of  the  coa- 
tinuance  of  existence,  as  well  as  the  appetites,  has  a  two- 
fold operation,  viz.,  instinctive  and.  voluntary.     These 
two  aspects  or  methods  of  its  operation  are  to  be  carefully 
distinguished  from  each  other.     The  instinctive  operation 
takes  place  when  life  is  threatened  or  endangered  on  some 
sudden  and  unexpected  emergencies.     When  a  person  ij 
in  danger  of  falling,  he  instinctively  puts  forth  his  hand  to 
sustain  himself;  when  a  blow  is  suddenly  aimed  at  him, 
he  instinctively  makes  an  effort  to  ward  it  off;  and  the 
operation  of  this  instinctive  form  of  the  desire  is  exceed- 
ingly rapid  as  well  as  effective.     This  instinctive  action 
is  highly  important  in  all  cases  where  an  effort  for  self- 
preservation,  based  upon  inquiry  and  reasoning,  would 
come  too  late. — When  the  exercise  of  the  desire  unde. 
consideration  exists  in  connexion  with  inquiry  and  reason- 
ing, and,  of  course,  is  ultimately  based  upon  decisions 
of  the  will,  it  is  said  to  be  voluntary.     It  is  under  the  sug- 
gestions of  this  form  of  the  principle  in  question  that  we 
are  led  to  make  all  those  prospective  calculations  and  ef- 
forts which  have  particular  reference  to  the  continuance 
and  protection  of  life.     In  either  point  of  view,  whether 
considered  as  instinctive  or  voluntary,  it  is  a  principle  ev- 
idently adapted  with  great  wisdom  to  man's  situation  and 
wants.     It  is  practically  a  powerful  motive  to  action ;  and 
m  its  voluntary  exercise  is  always  morally  good,  so  far  as 
it  exists  in  entire  conformity  with  the  requisitions  of  a?? 
unperverted  conscience. 

^  323.  Of  curiosity,  or  the  desire  of  knowledge. 

Another  of  the  leading  Propensive  principles  is  curi- 
oiVTY,  or  the  desire  of  knowledge ;  in  respect  to  which  il 
scarcely  admits  of  a  doubt,  that  it  is  to  be  regarded  a? 


PKOPENSITIES.  339 

one  of  the  implanted  and  original  characteristics  of  oui 
mental  constitution.  Although  it  must  be  acknowletlgetl 
that  this  principle  exists  in  very  various  degrees,  from  the 
A'eakest  form  of  life  and  activity  to  almost  irrepressible 
strength,  yet  a  person  utterly  without  curiosity  would  be 
deemed  almost  as  strange  and  anomalous  as  a  person 
without  sensation.  If  curiosity  be  not  natural  to  man, 
then  it  follows  that  the  human  mind  is  naturally  indiifor- 
ent  to  the  objects  that  are  presented  to  it,  and  to  the  dis- 
cmtry  of  truth :  and  that  its  progress  in  knowledge  is 
naturally  unattended  with  satisfaction;  a  state  of  things 
which  could  not  be  expected,  and  is  not  warranted  by 
facts.  On  the  contrary,  we  see  the  operation  of  this 
principle  everywhere.  When  anything  unexpected  and 
strange  takes  place,  the  attention  of  all  persons  is  imme- 
diately directed  towards  it ;  it  is  not  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence, but  all  are  anxious  to  ascertain  the  cause. 

There  is  at  least  one  class  of  writers  whose  prospects 
of  being  read  depend  in  a  great  measm^e  on  the  work- 
ings of  this  principle ;  we  refer  to  novelists  and  writers 
of  romance.  However  commonplace  may  be  their  con- 
ceptions, and  however  iminteresting  their  style,  if  they 
lay  the  plan  of  their  novel  or  romance  with  so  much  skill 
as  strongly  to  excite  the  curiosity,  they  can  command 
readers.  And  this,  undoubtedly,  is  the  whole  secret  of 
success  in  a  multitude  of  cases. 

<5i  324.  Further  illustrations  of  the  principle  of  curiosity. 

In  further  proof  of  the  existence  of  this  propensity  a> 
a  natural  or  implanted  one,  it  may  be  proper  to  refer  to 
the  whole  class  of  the  Deaf  and  Dumb,  and  to  those  un- 
fortunate individuals  who  are  blind  as  well  as  deaf  and 
dumb  These  persons  almost  uniformly  give  the  most 
striking  indications  of  a  desire  to  learn  ;  it  seems  to  glow 
in  their  countenance,  to  inspire  their  gestures,  and  to  urge 
them  on  with  a  sort  of  violence  in  their  inquiries.  Cer- 
tainly, if  the  principle  of  curiosity  were  not  implanted, 
and  did  not  exist  m  great  strength,  they  would  be  entire- 
ly overcome  by  the  multitude  of  discouragements  witk 
which  they  are  encompassed. 

Take,  as  an  illustration,  the  case  of  Jiimcs  Mitchell,  of 


540  I'UOPENSITIES. 

vvhom  Mr.  Stewart  has  given  a  minule  and  mltre^sting  ;u> 
r-ount.  Although  this  unfortunate  boy  wds  afllicted  with 
the  threefold  deprivation  of  being  deaf,  sightless,  and 
'A^thout  the  use  of  speech,  he  exhibited  a  considerablo 
degi  ee  of  mental  activity.  The  principle  of  Curiosity,  in 
particular,  existed  in  great  strength.  He  showed  a  strong 
desire  to  examine,  and  to  obtain  a  knowledge  of  all  ob- 
jects that  came  within  his  reach.  We  find  him  explorin" 
the  ground  inch  by  inch ;  we  see  him  creeping  on  his 
hands  and  knees  on  bridges  and  the  tops  of  houses ;  ex" 
amining  not  only  men,  but  dogs,  horses,  carriages,  fur- 
nitui'e,  and  musical  instruments  ;  standing  by  the  side  oi 
shoernakei'S.  tailors,  and  bricklayers,  and  intently  curious 
to  know  the  mode  and  the  result  of  their  labours. 

But  it  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  upon  these  general  con- 
siderations, or  to  refer  to  extraordinary  instances,  when 
we  constantly  w^itness  in  all  infants  and  children  the  most 
ample  proofs  that  the  principle  of  curiosity  is  deeply  im- 
planted in  the  human  mind.  It  seems  to  be  their  life  ; 
it  keeps  them  constantly  in  motion ;  from  morn  till  night 
it  furnishes  new  excitements  to  activity  and  new  sources 
of  enjoyment.  The  poets,  many  of  whom  are  entitled  to 
the  credit  of  an  exact  observance  of  human  nature,  have 
made  this  trait  in  infants  and  children  the  foundations  of 
m^r/y  striking  passages,  as  in  the  following : 

"  Iti  the  pleased  infant  see  its  power  exoand. 
When  first  the  coral  fills  his  little  hand  , 
T'hroned  in  his  mother's  lap,  it  dries  each  tear. 
As  her  sweet  legend  falls  upon  his  ear; 
Next  it  assails  him  in  his  top's  strange  hum, 
Breathes  in  his  whistle,  echoes  in  his  drum  ; 
Each  gilded  toy  that  doting  love  bestows, 
He  longs  to  break,  and  every  spring  expose." 

i  325.   Of  the  twofold  operation  and  the  morality  of  the  principle  ol 
curiosity. 

The  innate  principle  or  propensity  of  curiosity,  like  that 
of  self-preservation,  has  its  twofold  action,  instinctive 
.jkI  voluntary. — An  action  which  is  purely  instinctive  la 
always  directed  towards  its  object  as  an  ultimate  end;  it 
looks  at  the  object  itself,  without  regard  to  the  good  or 
evil  which  may  be  involved  in  it ;  it  chooses  and  pursues 
it  For  its  own  sake      It  is  in  this  way  that  the  prlnciplf 


PROPENSITIEiS  3-1  / 

of  cuiios.cy  0})erat<.s  in  the  first  instance  This  is  its  in 
stinciive  operation.  And,  so  far  as  it  tliiis  operates,  it  is 
neith(  r  sellish  nor  benevolent ;  neither  morally  good  noi 
evil ;  but  sinijily  innocent  and  useful. 

It  })ossesses  also  a  volu?^tary  action,  founded  upon  b 
view  of  consequences,  and  implying  the  exercise  of  reflec- 
tion. We  may  direct  it  to  proper  objects ;  we  may  stim- 
ulate its  exercise  by  considerations  of  interest  or  of  duty , 
we  may  restrain  it  when  it  becomes  irregular  and  inor- 
dinate. And  its  action,  so  far  as  it  exists  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, may,  with  entire  propriety,  be  denominated 
voluntary.  And,  so  far  as  it  is  of  this  character,  moralit)/ 
s  predicable  of  it ;  it  may  be  either  virtuous  or  vicious. 
If  it  be  stimulated  to  action  for  good  ends,  and  with  a 
suitable  regard  to  all  other  moral  claims,  its  exercise  ia 
virtuous.  If  it  have  bad  ends  in  view,  or  be  put  forth 
with  such  intensity  as  to  violate  other  moral  obligations, 
its  exercise  is  vicious.  It  is  in  accordance  with  these 
views  that  Mr.  Stewart  remarks  upon  and  disapproves 
Ihe  conduct  of  a  certain  ancient  astronomer.  It  appears 
that,  on  a  certain  occasion,  the  astronomer  was  accused  of 
indifference  in  respect  to  public  transactions.  He  replied 
to  the  charge  by  the  remark  that  his  country  was  in  the 
heavens  ;  distinctly  im})lying  that  he  had  deliberately 
merged  the  duties  of  the  citizen  in  those  of  the  astrono- 
mer, and  that  love  to  his  country  was  essentially  annulled 
by  the  higher  love  which  he  cherished  for  his  chosen 
science.  We  obviously  have  here  an  instance  of  the  in- 
ordinate exercise  of  the  principle  under  consideration.  It 
was  not  duly  subordinated.  It  became  so  intense  as  to 
conflict,  in  the  view  of  an  enlightened  conscience,  with 
the  proper  exercise  of  other  feelings,  and  with  the  dis- 
charge of  other  duties. 

()  32G.   Imilativeiiess,  or  the  propensity  to  imitation. 

Another  of  the  original  propensities  of  the  human  mind 
]s  the  principle  of  Imitation,  or  the  desire  of  doing  as  we 
see  others  do.  We  find  the  evidence  of  the  existence  of 
such  a  principle  everywhere  around  us. — If  this  propen- 
sity be  not  natural,  it  will  be  difficult  to  account  fcr  whai 
every  one  must  have  noticed  in  infancy  and  rhildhoovl 
FfS> 


ii'i2  PKOPENfelTlES. 

And  v>e  take  this  occasion  to  remark,  that  on  this  vihiAv 
subject  we  shall  refer  particularly  to  the  early  periods  of 
life.  That  is  a  time  when  human  nature  will  be  likely  to 
show  itself  in  its  true  features.  And  in  respect  to  the 
principle  now  before  us,  it  is  certain  that  children  are 
early  found  to  observe  wath  care  what  others  do,  and  to 
attempt  doing  the  like.  They  are  greatly  aided  by  this 
propensity  in  learning  to  utter  articulate  soimds.  It  is 
Qot  without  long-continudd  efforts,  in  which  they  are  evi- 
dently sustained  by  the  mere  pleasure  of  imitation,  that 
they  acquire  the  use  of  oral  language. 

At  a  little  later  period,  of  hfe,  after  having  learned  to 
articulate,  and  having  become  old  enough  to  take  part  in 
juvenile  sports,  we  find  the  same  propensity  at  w^ork. 
With  the  animation  and  formidable  airs  of  jockeys,  they 
bestride  a  stick  for  a  horse,  and  try  equestrian  experi- 
ments; they  conduct  their  small  and  frail  carriages 
through  courts  and  streets,  and  journey  with  their  rude 
sledges  from  one  hill-top  to  another.  Ever  busily  enga- 
ged, they  frame  houses,  build  fortifications,  erect  water- 
works, and  lay  out  gardens  in  miniature.  They  shoulder 
a  cane  for  a  musket ;  practise  a  measured  step  and  fierce 
look  ;  and  become  soldiers,  as  well  as  gardenei^s  and 
architects,  before  they  are  men. — But  the  operation  of 
this  propensity  is  not  limited  to  children ;  men  also  do  as 
their  fathers  have  done  before  them  ;  it  often  requires  no 
small  degree  of  moral  courage  to  deviate  from  the  fine  of 
precedents.  Whether  right  or  WTong,  we  generally  feel 
a  degree  of  safety,  much  greater  than  w^e  should  other- 
wise feel,  so  long  as  we  tread  in  the  path  of  others 

§  327.   Practical  results  of  the  principle  of  imitation. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  supposed  by  some,  whatever  evi- 
dence may  exist  in  favour  of  regarding  the  principle  un- 
der consideration  as  an  original  one,  that  it  has  but  a 
^•.Loht  connexion  with  the  advancement  and  the  happiness 
oi^mankind.  But  it  is  a  remark  not  unfrequently  to  be 
made  in  respect  to  the  principles  of  the  mind,  that  often 
results  of  great  magnitude  are  found  to  connect  them- 
selves with  elements  in  human  nature  that  appeared  in 
tliem?elves  exceedingly  insignificant.    Such,  it  is  possible, 


PROPENSITIES.  34.J 

may  be  the  case  here.  We  often  speak  of  imitativenesa 
as  a  principle  which  governs  children ;  but  are  less  will- 
ing to  acknowledge,  which  is  hardly  less  the  fact,  that  it 
is  "a  principle  which  governs  men.  We  cannot  doubt, 
from  the  reflection  we  have  been  able  to  bestow  upon  it. 
that  the  principle  before  us,  whatever  aspect  it  may  pre 
sent  at  first  sight,  was  designed  to  be,  and  is  in  fact,  om' 
of  the  important  supports  of  society ;  a  source  of  know] 
edge,  happiness,  and  power.  If  this  principle  were  ob- 
literated, the  bond  of  union  which  now  holds  so  closely 
together  the  two  great  divisions  of  society,  the  old  and 
the  young,  would  be  greatly  weakened  ;  an  event,  in  all 
points  of  view,  much  to  be  deplored.  Not  only  in  child- 
hood, but  in  mature  age,  as  we  have  already  had  occa- 
sion to  intimate,  we  walk  in  the  steps  of  our  fathers,  fol- 
lowing in  arts  and  in  manners  the  same  practices,  and 
sustaining  the  same  institutions ;  and  it  is  desirable,  as  a 
general  tiling,  that  we  should  do  so.  And  we  do  it,  no> 
merely  because  we  suppose  them  to  be  clothed  with  the 
attribute  of  superior  wisdom,  but  also  because  we  are 
prompted,  often  unconsciously  to  ourselves,  by  the  influ- 
ence of  this  powerful  principle.  And  it  is  in  this  way, 
partly  at  least,  that  generation  is  connected  with  genera- 
tion ;  that  the  torch  of  experience,  lighted  in  the  prece- 
ding; ao-e,  is  made  to  shed  its  beams  over  that  which  fol- 
lows ;  and  that  society,  kept  in  the  vicinity  of  the  beaten 
^rack,  is  not  subject  to  sudden  and  disastrous  convulsions. 
We  would  merely  add,  if  this  principle  has  such  vast 
influence,  as  we  have  no  doubt  that  it  has,  it  is  incum- 
oent  on  every  one  carefully  to  consider  the  nature  and 
tendency  of  the  example  which  he  sets.  He  who  sets  a 
bad  example,  either  in  domestic  or  in  public  life,  is  not 
only  blasted  and  withered  in  himself,  but  almost  necessa- 
I  ily  leads  on  in  his  train  a  multitude  of  others  to  the  same 
1  esults  of  degradation  and  ruin.  On  the  contrary,  he  who 
does  good  in  his  day  and  generation,  infuses,  whether  he- 
designs  it  or  not,  the  effulgence  of  his  example  into  a 
iimltiti.de  of  hearts  which  nature  has  opened  for  its  re- 
ception;  and  thus,  with  better  and  higher  results,  light? 
't\ftm  upward  to  happiness  and  alorv. 


L^44  rROPENSlTIE*. 

()  328.   Of  the  natural  desire  of  esioeni. 

Another  important  propensity,  not  resolvable  iitlu  uiiy 
thing  else,  but  original,  and  standing  on  it:;  own  basis,  u 
the  desire  of'  esteem. — -In  proof  of  the  natural  and  original 
existence  of  this  principle  in  the  human  mind,  we  are  a. 
liberty  to  appeal,  as  in  the  case  of  all  the  other  propensi- 
ties, to  what  w^e  notice  in  the  beginnings  of  life,  and  the 
first  developements  of  the  mental  nature.  Before  chiJdi'ei 
are  capable  of  knowing  the  advantages  which  result  from 
the  good  opinion  of  others,  they  are  evidently  mortifiec! 
At  expressions  of  neglect  or  contempt,  and  as  evidently 
pleased  with  expressions  of  regard  and  approbation.  As 
it  is  impossible  satisfactorily  to  account  for  this  state  of 
^hings  on  the  ground  of  its  being  the  result  of  reasoning, 
experience,  or  interest,  the  only  explanation  left  is,  that 
chis  desire  is  a  part  of  the  connatural  and  essential  furni 
i:ure  of  the  mind. 

(II.)  We  may  remark  further,  that  the  desire  of  estee::? 
is  found  to  exist  very  extensively  and  strongly  in  the  more 
advanced  periods  of  life.  If  we  look  at  the  history  of 
nations  and  of  individuals,  how  many  men  do  we  find 
who  have  been  willing  to  sacrifice  their  life  r;'.ther  than 
forfeit  the  favourable  opinion  of  others !  When  tiiey  have. 
lost  all  besides,  their  health,  their  fortune,  and  friends, 
they  cling  with  fondness  to  their  good  name ;  they  point 
triumphantly  to  their  unsullied  reputation  as  a  consolation 
in  *heir  present  adversities,  and  the  pledge  of  better  things 
in  time  to  come.  This  is  especially  true  of  those  periods 
in  the  history  of  nations,  when  the  original  sentiments  and 
traits  of  the  people  have  not  been  corrupted  by  the  intro- 
luction  of  the  arts  of  luxuiy  and  refinement. 

(III.)  There  is  this  consideration  also,  which  has  a 
bearing  upon  this  topic. — We  are  sometimes  in  such  a  sit- 
uation, that  the  favourable  or  unfavourable  opinion  of 
others  can  have  no  possible  bearing,  so  far  as  we  can 
judge,  on  our  own  personal  interests.  And  further  than 
5  his,  the  unfavourable  sentiment  which  we  suppose  to  ex- 
ist is  not  responded  to  in  a  single  instance  out  of  the 
particular  circle  of  those  who  indulge  it.  It  exists  there, 
i\nd  there  alone ;  without  the  possibility  of  affecting  in- 
iuj'iously  either  our  property  or  general  reputation.     And 


I'ROPENSII'ES.  3-18 

ytt  it  is  difRcuK  for  us  not  to  be  affectid  unpleasantly , 
we  feel  as  if  the  intcntioi>s  of  nature  had  been  violated  _ 
as  if  some  real  wrong  had  been  done  us ;  as  if  we  had 
been  deprived  of  that  which  is  obviously  a  right. — If  this 
view  of  the  subject  is  correctly  stated,  as  we  have  reason 
to  think  it  is,  it  goes  strongly  against  the  doctrine  that 
the  desire  of  esteem  is  based  upon  personal  and  interest- 
ed, considerations,  and  not  upon  the  intrinsic  nature  of  tht 
Qttind. 

(IV.)  It  is  an  additional  proof  in  favour  of  the  natu- 
ral origin  of  this  propensity,  that  it  operates  strongly  in 
reference  to  the  future.  We  not  only  wish  to  secure  the 
good  opinion  of  others  at  the  present  time,  and  in  refer- 
ence to  present  objects,  but  are  desirous  that  it  should  be 
permanent,  whether  we  shall  be  in  a  situation  directly  to 
experience  any  good  effects  from  it  or  not.  Even  after 
we  are  dead,  although  we  shall  be  utterly  separated,  both 
from  the  applauses  and  the  reprobations  of  men,  still  we 
wish  to  be  held  in  respectful  and  honourable  remem- 
brance. Fully  convinced  as  we  are  that  no  human  voice 
shall  ever  penetrate  and  disturb  the  silence  of  our  tombs, 
the  thought  would  be  exceedingly  distressing  to  us  if  we 
anticipated  that  our  memories  would  be  calumniated. 
We  may  atten)pt  to  reason  on  the  folly  of  such  feehngs, 
but  we  iind  it  impossible  to  annul  the  principles  planted 
within  us,  and  to  stifle  the  voice  oi  nature  speaking  in 
the  breast. 

^  329.  Of  the  desire  of  esteem  as  n  .j.*.  >.f  conduct. 

The  operation  of  this  principle,  wheu  kept  within  it* 
due  and  appropriate  hmits,  is  favourable  t.">  human  hap- 
piness. It  begins  to  operate  at  a  very  earlv  xicriod  of  lilie, 
long  before  the  moral  principles  have  been  fully  brough< 
out  and  established ;  and  it  essentially  promotes  a  decency 
and  propriety  of  deportment,  and  stimulates  to  exertion 
Whenever  a  young  man  is  seen  exhibiting  an  utter  disre- 
gard of  the  esteem  and  approbation  of  others,  the  most 
unfavourable  anticipation  may  be  formed  of  him;  he 
has  annihilated  one  of  the  greatest  restraints  on  an  evil 
course  which  a  kind  Providence  has  implanted  withii  iis, 
aiid  exposes  himself  to  the  hazard  oi'  unspeakable  vic« 


346  PROPEl^rs]TIE^• 

and  misery.  It  is  narrated  of  Sylla,  the  Ri)jna;v  Dicta- 
tor, that,  on  a  certain  occasion,  happening  to  see  Julius 
Cassar  walking  iimnodestly  in  the  streets,  he  remarked 
to  those  around  him  that  he  foresaw  in  that  young  man 
many  Mariuses;  distinctly  intimating,  tliat  a  person  so 
destitute  of  regard  for  the  feelings  and  opinions  of  others, 
Vi-ould  be  likely  to  take  a  course  dictated  by  his  sensuali- 
ty or  ambition,  irrespective  in  a  great  degree  of  the  ad- 
monitions of  conscience  and  of  considerations  of  the  pub- 
lic good.  A  prediction  founded  in  a  knowledge  of  the 
principles  of  human  nature,  and  abun-'lantly  verified  by 
the  result. 

But  while  we  distinctly  recognise  in  the  desire  of 
esteem  an  innocent  and  highly  useful  principle,  we  are 
carefully  to  guard,  on  the  other  hand,  against  making  the 
opinion  of  others  the  sole  and  ultimate  rule  of  our  con- 
duct. Temporary  impulses  and  peculiar  local  circum- 
stances may  operate  to  produce  a  state  of  public  senti- 
ment, to  which  a  good  man  cannot  conscientiously  con- 
form. In  all  cases  where  moral  principles  are  involved, 
there  is  another  part  of  our  nature  to  be  consulted.  In 
the  dictates  of  an  enlightened  Conscience,  we  find  a  code 
*^  which  no*  only  the  outwqrd  actions,  but  the  appetites, 
propensities,  and  affections,  are  amenable,  and  which  in- 
fallibly prescribes  the  limits  of  their  just  exercise.  To 
obey  the  suggestions  of  the  desire  of  esteem,  in  opposi 
tion  to  the  requisitions  of  conscience,  would  be  to  sub- 
vert the  order  of  the  mental  constitution,  and  to  transfer 
the  responsibility  of  the  supreme  command  to  a  mere 
B^in^nel  of  the  outposts. 

6  330.   Of  the  desire  of  possession. 

We  av:  so  constituted,  that  we  naturally  and  necessa 
rily  have  not  only  a  knowledge  of  objects,  but  of  a  mul- 
titude of  relations  which  they  sustain.  And,  among  other 
things,  we  very  early  form  a  notion  of  the  relation  of 
POSSESSION.  There  are  but  few  suggestions  of  the  intel- 
lect with  which  the  mind  forms  so  early  an  acquaintance 
as  with  this.  Whenever  we  see  children,  as  we  constant- 
ly do,  contending  with  each  other  for  the  occupancy  of 
a  chair  or  the  ccntro^  of  a  rattle,  we  ma  y  be  assured  thai 


PROPENSITIES-.  34T 

tlie)  liuve  distinctly  formed  the  idea  of  pos,sftShion.  Thev 
know  perfectly  well  what  it  is,  although  they  cannot  de* 
fine  it,  and  may  possibly  not  be  able  to  give  a  name  to 
«t  Although  there  can,  in  reality,  be  no  actual  posses- 
sion without  involving  the  existence  of  a  relation,  since 
the  fact  or  actuality  of  possession  implies,  on  the  one 
Uand,  an  object  which  is  possessed,  and  on  the  other  a 
possessor ;  nevertheless,  as  the  notion  or  idea  of  posses- 
sion exists  suggestively  and  abstractly  in  the  mind,  it  is 
to  be  regarded  as  a  single  and  definite  object,  distinctly 
perceptible  in  the  mind's  eye,  and  sustaining  the  same  re. 
lation  to  the  sensibilities  as  any  other  object  or  relation, 
either  mental  or  material,  which  is  susceptible  of  being 
intellectually  represented.  Of  possession,  as  thus  ex- 
plained, existing  as  it  were  distinctly  projected  and  im 
bodied  in  the  light  of  the  mental  vision,  all  men  appeai 
to  have  a  natural  or  implanted  desire.  The  fact  of  its 
existence,  either  actual  or  possible,  is  revealed  in  the  in- 
tellect ;  and  the  heart,  \\dth  an  instinctive  impulse,  cor- 
responds to  the  perception  of  the  intellect  by  yielding  its 
complacency  and  love. 

<J  331.   Of  the  moral  character  of  the  possessory  principle 

Although  the  desire  of  possession  (the  possessoiy  pnii- 
liple,  or  propension,  as  it  might  be  conveniently  termed) 
"aas  muloubtedly,  like  the  other  propensities,  its  instinctive 
Hction,  yet  its  morality,  that  is  to  say,  its  moral  character, 
depends  wholly  upon  the  features  of  its  voluntaiy  action. 
We  are  not  disposed  to  speak,  as  some  on  a  slight  ex- 
amination might  be  inclined  to  do,  of  the  possessory  prin- 
ciple as  being,  in  a  moral  sense,  an  unmixed  evil.  So  far 
as  its  action  may  be  regulated,  either  in  the  form  of  re- 
straint or  of  encouragement,  by  reason,  reflection,  and 
the  control,  either  direct  or  indirect,  of  the  will,  (all  of 
'.vhich  is  implied  when  we  speak  of  its  voluntary  action,) 
I'ost  so  far  it  is  capable  of  being  eitiier  right  or  wrong, 
•  eprehensible  or  meritorious.  When  acting  independent- 
ly of  all  comparison  and  reflection,  it  assumes  the  form 
of  an  instinct,  is  often  in  that  form  beneficial,  and  always 
innocent ;  when  it  usurps  the  authority  due  to  other  and 
ftigh^r  principles,  prompting  us  to  look  with  an  evil  eve 


3-J8  FROPENSITrc*. 

on  tiic  iighilul  possessions  of  another,  and  to  grasp  witli 
an  earnest  and  unholy  seizure  what  does  not  belong  to 
uSj  it  becomes  vicious ;  when,  on  the  other  hand,  its  ac- 
'ion  is  the  reverse  of  all  this,  prompted  by  upright  mo- 
tives, and  adhering  strictly  to  the  line  of  re  titude,  it  is 
■i)  be  regarded  as  virtuous. 

We  apprehend  it  is  impossible  even  to  conceive  of  si 
'yiliig  so  far  elevated  in  the  scale  of  perception  and  feei- 
ng as  to  involve  moral  accountability,  which  shall  be 
constituted  on  the  principle  of  an  entire  exclusion  of  the 
,>Dssessory  desire.  If  it  desires  its  own  existence  and 
happiness,  w^hich  we  suppose  to  be  a  trait  essential  to 
every  rational  and  accountable  creature,  it  seems  to  fol- 
low, as  a  matter  of  course,  that  it  wnll  desire  those  attri- 
butes and  gifts  which  are  conducive  to  the  preservation 
and  perfection  of  such  existence  and  happiness.  What 
sin  can  there  possibly  be  in  desiring  to  expand  the  range 
of  that  existence,  which  in  itself  is  such  an  invaluable 
good,  provided  it  be  done  with  a  suitable  regard  to  the 
relations  and  the  claims  of  all  other  beings  !  So  far 
from  being  a  sin,  it  is,  and  must  be,  a  duty.  If  it  be  not 
so,  what  shall  be  said  of  those  passages  of  the  Apostle 
Paul,  not  to  mention  other  parts  of  Scripture  of  a  similar 
import,  where  he  directs  the  Corinthians  not  only  to 
"  covet  to  prophesy,"  but  in  general  terms,  "  to  cove', 
earnestly  the  best  gifts;"   1  Cor.  xii.,  31;  xiv.,  39. 

^  332.   Of  perversions  of  the  possessory  desire. 

Although  the  propensity  in  question  is  susceptible,  by 
possibility  at  least,  of  a  virtuous  exercise,  there  is  toe 
ranch  reason  to  believe  that  its  ordinary  action  is  a  per- 
verted and  vicious  one.  It  is  a  great  law  of  the  mind. 
that  the  repetition  of  the  exercise  of  the  active  principle's 
increases  their  strength;  and  as  the  cccasions  of  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  possessoiy  principle  are  very  numerous,  it  ia 
the  almost  unavoidable  result  that  it  becomes  inordinate- 
ly strong.  When  <.his  is  the  case,  the  otherwise  innoceni 
desire  of  possession  ass-imes  tli3  form  of  the  sin  of  Cov- 
etousness ;  a  term  which  is  universally  understood  to  eX' 
press  an  eagerness  and  intensity  of  acquisition  that  presses 
iinon  the  domain  of  some  other  active  principleSj  an.^  la 


PHOPEKSITIES.  349 

ai  variance  with  some  of  the  claims  of  duty     TLL  is  \in- 

doiibtedly  one  of  the  great  sins  which  attach  to  human 
iiature ;  too  prevalent,  it  is  to  be  feared,  in  the  heart  of 
every  individual ;  and  which  receives  in  all  paj.ts  of  the 
Scriptures  a  decided  and  solemn  rebuke. 

When  the  possessory  principle  becomes,  by  further  rcp- 
£tiaon,  increased  in  the  intensity  of  its  action,  it  assumes 
Ibc  still  more  aggravated  and  guilty  form  of  Avarice.  In 
l^  form  it' not  only  loses  that  character  of  innocence 
J^'hicli  it  orignially  possessed,  but  becomes  exceedingly 
v^.athjome  and  abhorrent  in  the  unperverted  eye  of  moral 
pjrity. 

^  333.   Of  die  desire  of  power. 

Another  of  the  original  propensities  is  the  desire  oi 
Power. — In  regard  to  power,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say, 
that  it  is  not  an  object  directly  addressed  to,  or  cogniza- 
ble by,  the  senses  ;  but  it  is  an  attribute  of  mind,  and  i? 
made  known  to  us  by  an  act  of  the  Internal  intellect ; 
that  is  to  say,  of  the  intellect  operating  independently  of 
a  direct  connexion  ^vlth  the  senses.  We  do  not  see  pow- 
er as  we  see  and  extended  object ;  nor  do  w^e  touch  it, 
nor  is  it  an  object  of  the  taste  or  smell ;  but  it  is  revealed 
to  the  mind  by  an  act  of  Original  Suggestion,  on  the  oc- 
casions appropriate  to  that  species  of  mental  action.  But* 
although  it  is  not  cognizable  by  the  senses,  it  is  as  much 
a  reality,  as  much  an  object  of  emotion  and  desire,  as  if 
that  were  the  case.  It  stands  out  as  distinctly  perceptible 
to  the  mind's  eye,  as  an  extended  and  coloured  body  does 
to  the  bodily  eye.  This  being  the  case,  we  may,  with  en- 
tire propriety  of  language,  speak  of  the  desire  of  power ; 
for  wherever  there  is  an  object,  that  object  may,  in  pos- 
sibility at  least,  be  desired  ;  but  where  there  is  no  object 
before  the  mind,  it  is  not  possible  for  desire  to  exist. 

These  remarks  are  preparatory  to  what  we  have  now 
lo  say,  viz.,  that  the  desire  of  power  is  natural  to  the  liu- 
inan  mind ;  in  other  words,  that  the  desire  of  power  ia 
m  original  principle  of  the  mind. — In  support  of  this 
view,  which  may  perhaps  fail  at  first  sight  to  commend 
itself  to  the  reception  of  the  reader,  the  first  remark  we 
have  t;»  'jiake  is.  that  power  in  its  own  nature  is  a  thino 


350  p  aopENsiT  J  fc». 

desirable.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  power  is  iii  fact, 
and  IS  to  be  regarded  as,  an  essential  attribute  of  all 
mental  being. — Accordingly,  if  an  intellectual  and  sen- 
tient existence  is  desirable,  then  power  is  desirable  also,  as 
being  necessarily  involved  in  such  existence.  The  desire 
of  existence,  by  common  acknowledgment,  is  natural  ijo 
us ;  the  desire  of  happiness  is  nati:ral  also ;  and  sinct' 
-hers  can  be  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  without  power, 
it  seems  reasonable  to  think  that  the  desire  of  power  ia 
essential  to,  and  is  implanted  in,  our  nature. 

There  are  various  circumstances,  obvious  to  eveiy  one's 
notice,  which  go  to  confirm  this  view  of  the  subject 
"  The  infant,"  says  Mr.  Stewart,  "  while  still  on  the 
breast,  delights  in  exerting  its  little  strength  on  every  ob- 
ject it  meets  with,  and  is  moitified  when  any  accident 
convinces  it  of  its  own  imbecility.  The  pastimes  of  th< 
boy  are,  almost  without  exception,  such  as  suggest  to  hin 
the  idea  of  power.  When  he  throws  a  stone  or  shoots 
an  arrow,  he  is  pleased  with  being  able  to  produce  an  ef- 
fect at  a  distance  from  himself;  and  while  he  measures, 
with  his  eye  the  amplitude  or  range  of  his  missile  weapon, 
contemplates  with  satisfaction  the  extent  to  which  his 
power  has  reached.  It  is  on  a  similar  principle  that  he 
loves  to  bring  his  strength  into  comparison  with  that  of 
nis  fellows,  and  to  enjoy  the  consciousness  of  superior 
orowess." 

^  334.   Of  the  moral  character  of  the  desire  of  power. 

If  it  be  true  that  the  desire  of  power  is  connatural  to 
.he  human  mind,  it  will  probably  be  found,  like  othet 
analogous  principles,  to  possess  a  twofold  action,  instinct- 
rvE  and  voluntary.  So  far  as  its  action  is  instinctive^ 
v,'e  may  suppose  it  to  be  innocent  at  least,  and  probably 
dseful.  So  far  as  it  is  voluntary,  the  virtue  or  vice  which 
attaches  to  it  will  depend  upon  its  regulation.  If  it  be 
kept  in  subordination  to  the  dictates  of  an  enlightened 
conscience,  and  to  the  feelings  and  duties  we  owe  to  the 
Supreme  Being,  its  exercise  is  virtuous.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, it  acquires  inordinate  strength,  as  it  is  very  likely  to 
do,  and  is  excessive  in  its  operation,  pushing  us  forward 
to  the  pursuit  of  forbidden  oljjects  and  the  invasioJl  of 
other's  rights,  it  then  bpcnnies  vicimii^ 


PEOPENSITIES  6b] 

Wten  the  desire  of  power  becomes  excessive,  and  c-:i- 
ists  and  operates  as  a  leading  and  predominant  principle, 
we  commonly  denominate  it  Ambition.  He  who  is  un- 
der the  influence  of  ambition,  desires  power ;  not  because 
it  assimilates  him  to  his  Mak^r,  not  because  it  affords  hira 
the  increased  means  of  useiulncss,  nor  for  any  other  rea- 
son which  commends  itself  to  a  strictly  virtuous  mind ; 
but  simply  because  it  administers  to  the  gratification  of 
an  unrestrained  and  insatiable  selfishness. 

<J  335.   Propensity  of  self-love,  or  the  desire  of  happiness. 

We  proceed  to  explore  this  part  of  our  sensitive  nature 
still  further,  by  adding,  that  the  desire  of  enjoyment  or 
happiness  appears  to  be  an  original  or  connatural  element 
of  the  mental  constitution.  No  one  will  presume  to  as- 
sert that  the  desire  of  suffering  is  natural ;  that  we  ordi- 
narily rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  coming  woes,  and  endure 
them  with  gladness  of  heart.  Nor  are  there  satisfactory 
grounds  for  the  opinion  that  enjoyment  and  suffering  are 
indifferent  to  the  human  mind,  and  that  there  is  no  choice 
to  be  had  between  them.  Such  a  supposition  would  be 
contrary  to  the  common  experience  and  the  most  obvi- 
ous facts.  On  the  contrary,  our  own  consciousness  and 
what  we  witness  in  others  effectually  teach  us,  that  the 
desire  of  happiness  is  as  natural  as  that  of  knowledge  or 
esteem,  and  even  hardly  less,  so,  than  it  is  to  desire  food 
and  drink  when  we  experience  the  uneasy  sensations  ot 
hunger  and  thirst. 

Under  the  instigation  and  guidance  of  this  strong  pro- 
pensity, men  not  only  flee  from  present  evil  and  cling  to 
present  happiness,  but,  foreseeing  the  events  of  the  iu- 
hire,  they  prepare  raiment  and  houses,  fill  their  grana- 
ries, in  anticipation  of  a  day  of  want,  and  take  othei 
aeasures  for  the  prolonging  of  life,  health,  ai]d  comfort. 
It  is  kindly  provided  that  they  are  not  left,  in  taking  pre- 
cautions subservient  to  their  preservation  and  well-being, 
to  the  suggestions  and  the  law  of  reason  alone,  but  are 
guided  and  kept  in  action  by  this  decisive  and  perma- 
nent principle.  And  it  is  proper  to  add,  that  this  desire 
operates  not  only  in  reference  to  outv  ard  and  bodily  com- 
forts, but  also  in  r(  lation  to  inward  consolations,  the  in- 


S52  PROPENSITIES. 

spiiatuns  and  solaces  of  religion  in  the  present  life,  and 
the  anticipated  possession  of  that  more  glorious  happiness 
'.vhich  religious  faith  attaches  to  a  future  state  of  exist- 
ence. 

But  it  should  ever  be  remembered,  that  the  desire  ci 
our  own  happiness,  like  the  other  desires  which  have  bee? 
mentioned,  ought  to  be  subjected  to  a  suitable  regulation. 
A.n  enlightened  conscience  wall  explain  under  what  con- 
litions  our  personal  welfare  may  be  pursued,  and  in  what 
cases,  whether  it  relate  to  the  present  or  the  future,  it 
should  be  subordinated  to  considerations  of  public  bene 
fit  and  of  universal  benevolence. 

y)  336.   Of  selliihness  as  disliiiguished  from  self-love 

We  cannot  but  suppose,  for  the  reasons  that  have  jusi 
been  suggested,  that  the  desire  of  happiness  or  propensi- 
ty of  personal  good  is  an  attribute  of  man's  nature 
This  opinion  is  not  only  accordant  with  the  suggestions 
of  the  light  of  nature,  but  is  sanctioned  by  other  and 
higher  authority.  The  pursuit  of  our  own  happiness  ia 
obviously  recognised  in  the  Scriptures,  and  is  urged  upon 
us  as  a  duty.  While  we  are  required  to  love  our  neigh- 
bour, it  is  nowhere  said  that  we  must  perform  this  duty 
to  the  exclusion  of  a  suitable  regard  for  our  own  felicitj'. 
— The  desire  of  happiness  thus  implanted  in  our  own 
constitution,  we  denominate  by  a  simple  and  expressive 
terra,  self-love.  But  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  im- 
port of  the  term  is  frequently  misunderstood,  and  that  the 
term  itself  is  liable  to  erroneous  applications. 

This  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  principle  is  not  aJ 
ways,  and  perhaps  we  should  say,  is  not  generally  regu 
lated  and  restrained  as  it  ought  to  be  ;  but  frequently  de- 
generates into  a  perversion  which  ought  to  be  carefulljf 
distinguished  from  its  innocent  exercise.  It  is  not  self- 
love,  but  the  'perversion  of  self-love,  which  is  properlj 
called  SELFisiLXESs ;  and  while  self-love  is  always  inno- 
cent, and,  under  proper  regulations,  is  morally  commenda 
i)lc,  as  being  the  attribute  of  a  rational  nature,  and  as  be- 
mg  approved  by  God  himself,  selfishness,  on  the  con- 
tra! y,  is  always  sinful,  as  existing  in  violation  of  what  l' 
(\\XG  to  others,  and  at  variance  with  the  will  of  God.--l 


PROPENSITIES.  353 

is  duit  t(  ihfe  cause  of  morals  and  religion,  as  -well  as  o} 
sound  philosophy,  to  make  this  important  distinction 
Self-love  is  the  principle  which  a  holy  God  has  given ; 
selfishness  is  the  loathsome  superstructure  which  man, 
in  the  moments  of  his  rebellion  and  sin,  has  erecte  \ 
v'pon  it. 

^  337.    llefirence  to  the  opinions  of  philosophical  writers. 

Jl  would  be  easy  to  introduce  passages  in  support  ol 
'.iie  greater  part  of  the  views  of  this  chapter,  if  it  wert 
deemed  necessary,  from  wTiters  whose  opinions  are  receiv- 
*td  wath  deference,  and  are  just.y  entitled  to  be  so.  It 
appears  from  the  recent  work  of  Dr.  Chalmers  on  the 
Moral  and  Intellectual  Constitution  of  Man,  that  he  re- 
gards the  desire  of  possession  (the  possessory  principle,  as 
it  may  conveniently  be  designated)  as  connatural  to  the 
human  mind.  (Vol.  i.,  ch.  vi.,  §  8 — 13.)  Mr.  Stewart 
takes  the  same  view  in  regard  to  the  principle  of  self-love, 
or  the  desire  of  happiness.  (Active  and  Moral  Powers, 
bk.  ii.,  chap,  i.)  On  this  important  subject,  which  in 
some  of  its  aspects  is  closely  connected  with  the  requisi- 
tions and  appeals  of  revealed  religion,  w. ,  find  the  follow- 
ing explicit  statement  in  Dr.  Wardlaw's  recently  publish- 
ed treatise,  entitled  Christian  EthicS. 

"  Self-love  is  an  essential  principle  in  the  constitution 
of  every  intelligent  creature;  meaning  by  self-love  the 
desire  of  its  own  preservation  and  well-being.  By  no  ef- 
fort of  imagination  can  we  fancy  to  ourselves  such  a  crea- 
tui-e  constituted  without  this.  It  is  an  original  law  in  the 
nature  of  every  sentient  existence.  In  man,  it  is  true,  in 
regard  especially  to  the  sources  from  which  it  has  sought 
its  gratification,  it  is  a  principle  which,  since  his  fall,  has 
been  miserably  perverted  and  debased,  degenerating,  in 
ten  thousand  instances,  into  utter  selfishness,  and  in  all 
partaking  of  this  unworthy  taint.  Between  selfishness, 
however,  and  legitimate  self-love,  there  is  an  obvious  and 
wide  discrepancy.  The  latter  is  not  at  all  distinctive  of 
O'Vir  nature  as  degenerate,  but  was  interwoven  in  its  very 
texture  as  it  came  from  the  Creator's  l\and.  The  formei 
is  proper  y  the  corruption  of  the  latter  It  leads  the  crea- 
hire,  whc'is  under  its  d7minant  influence,  to  prefer  self  tr 


354  PivoPENSIT^E^s. 

fellow- crea  lures  and  to  God,  so  as  to  seek  itj  own  leal  en 
supposed  advantage  at  the  expense  of  the  interests  and 
the  honour  of  both.  So  far,  on  the  contrary,  is  self-love 
from  be.'jig  unwarrantable,  that,  in  that  part  of  God's  law 
which  prescribes  our  feeling  and  conduct  towards  our  fel- 
low-creatures, it  is  assumed  as  the  standard  measure  of 
the  commanded  dyty, '  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as 
THYSELF.'  Take  away  self-love,  or  suppose  it  possible  that 
the  human  heart  should  be  divested  of  it,  and  you  arnii  > 
hi  late  the  command  by  rendering  it  unintelligible. 

•'  There  is  not,  assuredly,  any  pait  of  the  divine  word,, 
by  which  wc  are  required,  in  any  circumstances,  to  divest 
ourselves  of  this  essential  principle  in  our  constitution 
That  w^ord,  on  the  contrary,  is  full  of  appeals  to  it,  under 
every  diversity  of  form.  Such  are  all  its  threateninjo^s, 
all  its  promises,  all  its  invitations." 

4  338.  The  principle  of  sociality  original  in  the  human  mind. 

Sociality,  or  the  desire  of  society,  is  another  of  the  im- 
planted propensities.  Men  naturally  (not  moved  to  it 
primarily  by  the  influences  of  education  or  considerations 
of  interest,  but  of  themselves  and  naturally)  have  a  de- 
sire of  the  company  or  society  of  their  fellow-men ;  a 
tendency  of  the  mind,  expressed  by  the  single  term  so- 
ciality or  SOCIABILITY. — We  are  aware  that  the  desire  of 
society,  as  well  as  some  of  the  other  original  propensions, 
has  sometimes  been  regarded  as  a  mere  modification  of 
Self-love.  It  is  the  fact,  ho\vever,  that,  in  its  first  opera- 
tion, the  desire  of  society  acts  instinctively,  being  directed 
to  its  object  as  an  ultimate  end,  w^holly  irrespective  of 
any  pleasure  which  may  subsequently  be  found  attached 
to  its  attainment.  It  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  De~ 
sire,  as  v/e  have  already  seen,  that  the  attainment  of  its 
object  is  attended  with  more  or  less  pleasure.  And  this 
is  as  true  of  the  successful  issue  of  the  principle  of  So- 
ciality as  of  any  other  principle,  involving  as  a  part  of 
its  nature  the  desiring  element.  Accordingly,  after  the 
experience  of  pleasure  attendant  upon  its  successful  exer- 
Mse,  even  in  a  single  instance,  it  is  possible  that  its  sub" 
sequent  aclion  may  be  prompted  rather  by  a  regard  to  the 
concomitant  fnio;^  merit  tliac   to  th«^  object   which  oriei* 


rROPENsiTifiy.  355 

n'd  iy  called  \t  forth.  Such  an  exercLse  of  the  principle 
iiiHier  coiisi  leralion  may,  with  somt  appearance  of  pro- 
prieh',  be  termed  a  scljish  one  ;  but  this  is  rather  a  sec- 
ondary than  an  original  exercise  ;  and  does  not  so  much 
indicate  what  the  principle  is  by  nature,  as  what  it  may 
become  by  subordinate  or  by  perverting  influences.  In  it- 
self considered,  it  is  innocent  and  highly  useful ;  it  may, 
mdeed,  after  its  first  exercise,  be  indulged  from  a  regard 
to  personal  or  self-interested  considerations;  that  is  to 
say,  from  a  legard  to  our  own  happiness  or  pleasure ;  but 
even  the  exercise  of  the  principle  from  such  considerations 
is  not  to  be  regarded,  as  some  may  suppose,  as  morally 
wrong,  provided  it  is  so  regulated  as  not  to  conflict  with 
the  proper  operation  of  other  principles  and  with  the 
L'laims  of  duty 

9  339.  Evidence  of  the  existence  of  this  principle  of  sociality. 

(I.)  The  existence  of  the  propensity  under  considera- 
tion is  shown,  in  the  first  place,  by  what  we  notice  in  the 
early  periods  of  life.  No  one  is  ignorant  that  infants  and 
very  young  children  exhibit  a  strong  attachment  to  their 
parents  and  others  who  tend  upon  them,  and  a  desire  for 
their  company  and  uneasiness  at  their  absence.  When 
left  alone,  even  for  a  very  short  time,  they  discover  a 
great  degree  of  unhappiness,  which  m.ay  sometimes  be 
ascribed  to  fear,  but  more  often  to  the  mere  sense  of  lone- 
liness, and  the  desire  for  society. 

When  other  infants  and  children  are  brought  into  their 
company  whom  they  have  never  seen  before,  this  propen- 
sity is  at  once  shown  in  their  smiles,  their  animated  ges- 
tures, and  sparkling  eyes.  And  when  they  are  old 
enough  to  go  out  and  play  in  the  streets,  we  find  them 
abnost  always  in  groups.  Their  sports,  their  wandering's 
IB  fields  and  forests,  their  excursions  in  fishing  and  hunt- 
ing, are  all  made  in  companies ;  and  the  privilege  of 
amusing  themselves  in  these  ways,  on  the  condition  of 
not  being  allowed  the  attendance  of  others^  would  ht 
deemed  scarcely  better  than  a  punishment. 

(II.)  Iri  the  second  place,  this  propensity^  which  sho%va 
itself  with  so  much  strength  in  children,  continues  to  ex« 
ist,  a^.d  1o  give  inter estino[  and  decisive  proofs  of  its  ex 


356  '-ROrENSITIES. 

!r>tence,  in  manhoc/d  and  age.  It  is  true,  that  thos&  r^nfi 
nre  further  advanced  in  years,  from  the  circumstanco  ci 
their  finding  greater  resources  in  themselves,  are  in  gen- 
eral more  capable  of  supporting  retirement  and  solitude 
than  children  But  it  is  very  evident,  in  the  maturity  as 
well  as  in  the  earlier  periods  of  life,  that  man's  proper 
element  (that  in  which  alone  he  can  secure  the  devel- 
CDcment  of  his  powers  and  be  happy)  is  society,  in  some 
shape  and  in  some  degree.  Hence  the  frequency  of  fam- 
ily meetings,  of  social  and  convivial  parties,  of  comraem' 
orative  celebrations,  of  religious,  literary,  and  political 
assemblies,  which  constantly  occur  in  all  communities 
throughout  the  world,  and  which  seem  to  be  almost  as? 
necessary  as  the  air  they  breathe  or  their  daily  food 

!)  340.   Other  illustraiions  of  the  existence  of  this  principle. 

So  strong  is  this  principle,  that  men,  if  deprived  of  hu- 
man society,  will  endeavour  to  satisfy  its  demands  by 
forming  a  species  of  intimacy  with  the  lower  animals ;  a 
circumstance  which  seems  to  us  decisively  to  evince  not 
only  the  innate  existence,  but  the  great  strength  of  the 
social  tendency.  Baron  Trenck,  for  instance,  in  order  to 
alleviate  the  wretchedness  of  his  long  and  dreadful  im- 
prisonment, made  the  attempt,  and  was  successful  in  it,  to 
tame  a  mouse.  The  mouse,  according  to  his  account  of 
him,  would  not  only  play  around  him  and  eat  from  his 
hand,  but  discovered  extraordinary  marks  of  sagacity  as 
well  as  of  attachment. 

Mr.  Stewart,  in  illustrating  this  very  subject,  makes  the 
following  statement. — "  The  Count  de  Lauzun  w^as  confi- 
ned by  Louis  XIV.  for  nine  years  in  the  Castle  of  Pigne- 
rol,  in  a  small  room  where  no  light  could  enter  but  fron) 
a  chink  in  the  roof.  In  this  solitude  he  attached  himself 
to  a  spider,  and  contrived  for  some  time  to  amuse  him- 
self in  attempting  to  tame  it,  with  catching  flies  for  its 
support,  and  with  superintending  the  progress  of  its  web. 
The  jailer  discovered  his  amusement  and  killed  the  spi- 
der ;  and  the  count  used  afterw^ard  to  declare,  that  the 
pang  he  felt  on  the  occasion  cDukl  be  compared  only  to 
ihat  of  a  raoiher  for  the  loss  of  ■»-  child." 

More  recently  we  find  statements  of  a  similar  purport 


PROPENSITIES  35T 

IV  the  interesting  ittle  work  of  Silvio  Pellico,  vvliich  gives 
an  account  of  his  Ten  Years'  Imprisonment. — "  Being  al- 
moA  deprived  of  human  society,"  he  remarks,  "  I  one  day 
made  acquaintance  with  some  ants  upon  my  ^vindow ;  1 
fed  them ;  they  went  away,  and,  ere  long,  the  place  was 
tlironged  with  these  little  insects,  as  if  come  by  invitation. 
A  spider,  too,  had  weaved  a  noble  edifice  upon  my  walls, 
Rnd  I  often  gave  him  a  feast  of  gnats  and  flies,  which 
were  extremely  annoying  to  me,  and  v.diich  he  liked  much 
better  than  I  did.  I  got  quite  accustomed  to  the  S'ght  of 
tiira ;  he  would  run  over  my  bed,  and  come  a"d  take  the 
pi'ecious  morsels  out  of  my  hand." 

On  a  certain  occasion,  after  having  been  visited  by 
some  one  who  took  a  more  than  usual  interest  in  his  situ- 
ation, he  exclaims,  "  How  strange,  how  irresistible  is  the 
desire  of  the  solitary  prisoner  to  behold  some  one  of  his 
own  species  !  It  amounts  to  almost  a  sort  of  instinct,  as 
xf  to  prevent  insanity,  and  its  usual  consequence,  the  ten- 
dency to  self-destructicn.  The  Christian  religion,  so 
abounding  in  views  of  humanity,  forgets  not  to  enmnerate 
among  its  works  of  mercy  the  visiting  of  the  prisoner. 
The  mere  aspect  of  man,  his  look  of  commiseration,  hig 
willingness,  as  it  were,  to  share  with  you,  and  bear  a  part 
of  your  hea^'y  burden,  even  when  you  know  he  cannot 
relieve  you,  has  something  that  sweetens  yom'  bitter  cui\" 

(J  341.   Relation  of  the  social  principle  to  civil  society. 

It  is  on  such  considerations  that  we  maintain  the  j)rin- 
'nple  which  has  now  been  the  subject  of  examination,  to 
be  connatural  to  the  human  mind.  If  men  are  frequently 
found  in  a  state  of  contention,  jealous  of  each  other's  ad- 
vancement, and  seeking  each  other's  injury,  we  are  not 
to  regard  this  as  their  natui-al  position,  but  rather  as  the 
resiilt,  in  many  cases  at  least,  of  misapprehension.  If  they 
understood,  in  every  case,  the  relative  position  of  those 
with  whom  they  contend,  and  especially,  if  they  were  free 
from  all  unfavourable  influences  from  those  v/ho  happen 
to  be  placed  in  positions  of  authority,  the  great  mass  of 
mankind  would  fmd  the  principle  of  sociality  successfully 
asserting  its  claims  against  those  causes  of  compulsioB 
ami  strife  which,  for  veiious  reasons,  too  often  exist 


358  THk  ma,xvoi-e:iT  afjecirws. 

li  concluding  this  subject,  we  may  properly  revert  a 
moment  to  the  strange  notion  of  Mr.  Hobbes,  ai.d  these 
who  think  with  him,  that  man  is  kept  in  society  cnly  by 
•he  fear  of  what  he  significantly  calls  the  Leviathan ;  that 
is  to  say,  of  Civil  Society  in  the  exercise  of  force.  These 
writers  give  us  to  understand,  that  it  is  the  chain,  the 
sv/ord,  and  the  fagot,  which  sustains  the  imiformity  of 
Mie  social  position.  We  have  no  doubt  that  Civil  Gov- 
ernment, in  its  proper  administration,  has  a  favourable 
effect,  even  in  the  exercise  of  force.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  it  is  a  great  and  important  fact,  that  Civil  Society 
has  a  different,  and,  in  all  respects,  a  better  foundation 
than  this.  It  is  based  on  the  constitution  of  the  mind  it- 
self; on  the  unfailing  operations  of  the  social  principle 
It  is  true  that  the  tendencies  of  this  principle  are  some- 
times temporarily  annulled  by  counteracting  and  adverse 
influences ;  but  the  principle  itself  is  never,  in  a  sound 
mind,  perfectly  extinguished.  There  is  philosophical 
truth,  as  well  as  poetical  beauty,  in  the  well-known  ex- 
pressions  of  Cowper : 

"  Man  in  society  is  like  a  flower 
Blown  in  his  native  bed  ;   'tis  there  alone 
His  faculties,  expanded  in  full  bloom, 
Shine  out ;  there  only  reach  their  proper  use." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    MALEVOLENT  AFFECTIONS. 
^  342.  Of  the  comparative  rank  of  the  aiFections. 

It  will  be  recollected,  after  some  general  remarks  on 
the  Nature  of  desire,  we  proposed  to  prosecute  tlie  ex- 
amination of  what  may  be  called,  in  distinction  froni  the 
emotive,  the  desirous  portion  of  the  Pathematic  sensibili- 
Hes,  under  the  subordinate  heads  of  the  Instincts,  the  Ap- 
petites, the  Propensities,  and  the  Affections.  Having  ex- 
"iinined,  so  far  as  seemed  to  be  necessary  for  our  purpose, 
ihe  three  first  divisions,  we  are  now  prepared  to  pror;eeri 
to  the  last 


THE    MALEVOLENT   AFFECTIONS  ^bi^ 

The  Affections  are  distinguished  from  the  other  iornia 
iti  the  desirous  or  propensive  nature,  besides;  other  subor- 
dinate marks  or  characteristics  which  will  naturally  pre- 
sent themselves  to  our  notice  as  they  come  separately 
under  examination,  in  being,  in  the  first  place,  more 
complex,  and  also  by  the  circumstance  of  their  suslaininf4 
a  higher  place  in  the  graduation  of  our  esteem  and  hon 
our.  —It  may  be  difficult  to  explain  how  it  happens,  bui 
it  is  unquestionably  the  fact,  that  there  is  a  dilference  in 
the  sentiments  of  esteem  with  which  we  contemplate  dif- 
ferent parts  of  our  nature ;  some  being  regarded  with 
higher,  and  some  with  less  honour.  In  the  graduation  oi 
our  regard,  it  appears  to  be  the  fact,  that  we  generalh 
estimate  the  appetites  as,  in  some  degree,  higher  than  the 
instincts,  and  the  propensities  as  higher  than  either.  To 
the  Affections,  especially  the  Benevolent  affections,  which 
occupy,  in  our  estimation,  a  still  more  elevated  position, 
ve  look  with  increased  feelings  of  interest.  They  obvi- 
ously stand  at  the  head  of  the  list ;  and  when  we  shall 
have  completed  their  examination,  nothing  more  will  re- 
main to  be  said  on  the  regular  or  ordinary  action  of  thf 
Natural  Sensibilities. — We  shall  then  be  at  liberty  to  pro- 
feed  to  another  and  still  more  important  class  of  subjects 

^  343.  Of  the  complex  nature  of  the  affections. 

The  Affections,  unlike  the  Appetites  and  Propensities 
as  they  exist  in  their  primitive  or  original  developement, 
are  not  simple  states  of  mind,  but  complex.  Accordingly, 
the  term  affection  denotes  a  state  of  mind,  of  which  it  is 
indeed  true  that  some  simple  emotion  is  always  a  part, 
but  which  differs  from  any  single  simple  emotion  in  being 
fombined  mth  some  form  of  that  state  of  the  mind  called 
DESiKE.  "As  to  eveiy  sort  of  passiDn,"  says  Kaimes, 
"  we  find  no  more  in  the  composition  but  an  emotion, 
pleasant  or  painful,  accompanied  with  desire." 

The  affections  are  susceptible  of  being  divided,  although 
ii.  may  not  be,  in  all  respects,  easy  to  carry  the  arrange- 
ment  into  effect  in  its  detail,  into  the  two  (lasses  of  Be- 
tievolent  and  Malevolent.  The  malevohnt  affections,  as 
a  general  thing,  include  a  painful  emotion,  accompanied 
with  a  desire  of  evil  to  the  unpleasant  object      The  be- 


360  THE    MALEVOLENT    AFFECllUNJ*. 

opvoifi:t  affections,  on  the  contrary,  include,  for  the  m<jsi 
fart,  a  pleasant  eraotic  n,  accompanied  witli  the  desire  of 
pood  to  the  pleasing  object.  But  what  distinguishes  and 
i.haracterizes  the  two  classes, is  probably  net  so  much  thi; 
'lature  of  the  emotion  as  the  desire  of  good  or  evil  which 
attends. it. — It  is  on  the  basis  of  this  division  that  we  pro- 
pose to  proceed  in  the  examination  of  this  subject. 

It  is  pioper  to  remark  here,  that  the  term  passions,  a; 
f-onformity  with  the  authorized  usage  of  language,  is  sus- 
'.eptible  of  being  employed  as  entirely  synonymous  with 
AFFECTIONS.  In  this  sense  we  shall  sometimes  have  occa- 
sion to  use  it ;  although  it  is  frequently  the  case  that  it  is 
employed  also  as  expressive,  not  merely  of  the  existence 
of  the  affections,  but  as  implying  their  existence  in  a  raised 
)r  eminent  degree. 

^  344.  Of  resentment  or  anger. 

The  first  of  the  malevolent  affections  which  we  pro- 
pose to  consider  (that  which  may  be  termed  the  founda- 
tion or  basis  of  all  the  others)  is  Resentment  or  Anger 
This  affection,  like  all  others,  is  of  a  complex  nature,  in- 
volving an  unpleasant  or  painful  emotion,  accompanied 
with  the  desire  of  inflicting  unpleasantness  or  pain  on  the 
object  towards  which  it  is  directed.  In  its  original  or 
natural  state,  the  desire  appears  to  be,  to  some  extent, 
the  counterpart  of  the  emotion;  that  is  to  say,  having 
experienced  an  unpleasant  or  painful  emotion,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  actual  or  supposed  ill  conduct  of  others,  we 
naturally  desire,  in  the  exercise  of  the  Resentment  arising 
under  such  circumstances,  a  corresponding  retribution  of 
pain  on  the  offending  agent.  But  in  saying  that  they 
are  reciprocally  counterparts,  we  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to 
assert,  although  there  seem  to  be  grounds  for  such  »  sug- 
gestion, that  they  possess  to  each  other  a  precise  and  exact 
I'orrespondence. 

There  are  various  modifications  of  Resentment,  so  dis- 
dnct  from  each  other  as  easily  to  admit  of  a  separate  no- 
ace  and  to  be  entitled  to  a  distinct  name,  such  as  Peevish- 
ness, Jealousy,  and  Revenge.  These  will  be  considered, 
ftltho'.igh  in  as  brief  a  manner  as  possible,  in  their  proper 
place      It  i.s  necessary  to  remarlc  a  little  more  at  lensitl 


THE    W  LE\  OLENT   AFFECTIONS  361 

apon  Ihe  passion  no^?  before  us,  which  may  bt  legardsd 
as  in  some  importan'.  sense  the  foundation  ar.^I  !he  pJaf'-€ 
of  origin  to  all  the  o:hers. 

§  345,  Illustrations  of  instinctive  reseiitrricni. 

The  AFFECTIONS,  agreemg  in  this  respect  with  what  has 
been  said  of  the  Appetites  and  Propensities,  have  a  1  wo« 
fold  action,  instinctive  and  voluntary ;  operatmg,  in  tlie 
Dne  case,  suddenly  and  without  thought ;  in  the  other, 
operating  on  reflection  and  with  deliberate  purpose  of 
mind. — Accordingly,  we  proceed  to  remark,  in  the  first 
place,  on  the  instinctive  form  of  resentment.  The  occa- 
sions on  which  this  form  of  resentment  arises  or  is  liable 
to  arise,  are  all  cases  of  harm  or  suffering,  wdiether  such 
harm  or  suffering  be  caused  intentionally  or  not.  The 
harm  which  we  expeiience  is  followed  by  the  resentment 
at  once ;  the  rapidity  of  the  retributive  movement  may  be 
compared  to  that  of  a  flash  of  lightning ;  quick  as  the 
Dperation  of  thought  is  universally  allowed  to  be,  there  is 
no  opportunity  for  its  interposition  between  the  harm 
which  has  been  experienced  and  the  resentment  that  fol- 
lows. Under  such  circumstances  it  is,  of  course,  impos- 
sible that  the  resentment  should  be  regulated  by  the  co.i 
sideration  whether  the  hurt  which  we  h?.ve  experienced 
was  intentional  or  not.  It  is  the  harm,  in  itself  consider- 
ed, which  arouses  us,  exclusive  of  any  reference  to  the 
cirumstances  under  wl-'ch  it  is  inflicted. 

We  not  unf.'equently  see  instances  of  instinctive  resent 
(nent  corresponding  to  what  has  been  said.  It  is  under 
the  influence;  of  this  form  of  resentment  that  the  child  who 
has  been  ac  ;identally  hurt  by  a  stone  or  a  billet  of  wood, 
wreaks  a  momentary  anger  upon  the  inanimate  object ; 
!.}iat  the  Savage  breaks  and  fiercely  tramples  on  the  ar- 
row which  has  \^  ounded  him ;  and  that  men,  in  the  firsf 
moments  of  their  suffering,  almost  universally  discover  a 
sudden  and  marked  displeasure  with  the  cause  of  it. 

)  346.  Uses  and  moral  character  of  instinctive  reseiiimeiii. 

The  object  (or  final  cause,  as  it  is  sometnnes  termed) 
f.r  which  the,  principle  of  instinctive  resentn^ient  is  iir.- 
plauted  in  man,  seems  to  be  to  furnish  him  with  a  degree 
Hh 


362  IHE    MALEVOLENT    AFFECTIONS 

Gt  pi-otrctiou  in  the  case  of  sudden  and  imrorescen  aliacks 
The  reasoning  pow3r  is  comparatively  slow  in  itB  opera- 
tion ;  and  if  the  constitution  of  our  nature  were  such  ajs 
to  require  us  always  to  wait  for  its  results  before  actingj 
we  might,  in  some  cases,  fail  of  that  protection  which  ac 
mstmctive  effort  would  have  given.  Hence  the  practic&. 
imporf.ance  of  this  form  of  the  principle  under  considera- 
tion. 

It  may  be  added,  that  instinctive  resentment  has  nu 
moral  character.  It  is  the  glory  of  the  moral  nature,  tliat 
it  lays  back,  if  we  may  be  allowed  the  expressions,  of  the 
intellective  nature  ;  and  that  it  does  not,  and  cannot, 
act  independently  of  the  antecedent  action,  to  a  greater 
or  less  extent,  of  the  intellect.  In  other  words,  the  na- 
ture of  conscience  is  such  as  to  require  as  the  basis  of  its 
action  a  knowledge  of  the  thing  and  its  relations,  upon 
which  it  is  about  to  pronounce  its  opinion ;  which  knowl- 
edge can  be  acquired  only  by  the  perceptive  and  compa- 
ring acts  of  the  intellect.  But  such  is  the  rapidity  of 
instinctive  action,  that  it  entirely  excludes  a  suitable 
knowledge  of  the  event  which  calls  it  forth ;  and  as  it  m 
this  way  excludes  the  cognizance  and  authority  of  con- 
science, it  cannot  be  said  to  have  a  moral  character,  cithet 
tjood  or  evil. 

^S  347.   Of  voluntary  in  distinction  from  instinctive  resentment 

The  second,  and,  in  a  practical  and  moral  point  oi 
view,  the  more  important  form  of  this  affection  is  what 
may  be  denominated  Voluntary  Resentment.  By  inqui- 
ring into  the  cause  of  the  resentment  which  we  have  in 
stinctively  experienced,  and  by  suggesting  reasons  either 
for  its  increase  or  diminution,  we  are  enabled  to  modifj 
tts  action,  and  to  impart  to  it  the  character  of  voluntari 
iiess  and  accountability. 

The  proper  occasion  of  deliberate  cr  Voluntary,  m  dis- 
linctioii  from.instinctive  Resentment,  is  injury,  as  it  stands 
distinguished  from  mere  harm  or  hurt.  That  is  to  say 
Voluntary  resentment,  when  exercised  in  accordance  witl 
the  intentions  of  nature,  takes  into  view,  not  only  the  harifl 
or  suffering  which  has  been  occasioned,  but  the  motive  oi 
intention  of  the  a2;ent.     The  final  cause  or  obiect  of  in- 


THE    MAI-EVuLENT    AF).  ECTIQNS  3(53 

snucti\  e  1  esontment  is  immediate  protection ;  nor  does  it 
appear  to  have  anything  fuither  in  view.  The  final  cause 
of  vokmtary  resentment  is  not  only  protection,  but  j\istico 
in  other  words,  while  it  aims  to  secure  protection,  it  doeti 
not  propose  the  attainment  of  that  object,  except  in  con- 
formity with  what  is  strictly  proper  and  right.  It  al- 
ways, therefore,  in  its  appropriate  and  legitimate  exercise, 
dispenses  its  retribution,  not  simply  with  a  reference  to 
the  harm,  loss,  or  suffering  which  has  been  endured,  but 
chiefly  with  reference  to  the  feelings  which  at  the  time 
existed  in  the  mind  of  the  agent  or  cause  of  the  suffering 
A  moral  character,  accordingly,  attaches  only  to  tht 
voluntary  form  of  resentment.  If  there  is  an  exact  pro 
Dortion  between  the  resentment  and  its  cause ;  in  other 
words,  if  resentment  precisely  corresponds  to  what  justice 
requires,  it  is  right.  But  if  it  exceeds  this  just  proportion, 
it  is  wrong.  This  statement  is  made  on  the  supposition 
that  we  are  consideiing  the  subject  by  the  mere  aid  of 
the  light  of  nature,  exclusively  of  the  Scriptures.  If,  un- 
der the  Christian  dispensation,  we  are  required,  for  high 
and  holy  reasons  peculiar  to  that  dispensation,  to  subdue 
resentful  feelings  which  otherwise  might  have  been  justly 
exercised,  that  circumstance  evidently  places  the  subject 
«n  a  different  light. 

■J  348.  Tendency  of  anger  to  excess,  and  the  natural  checks  to  ii. 

Few  principles  are  more  operative  in  man,  in  point  ol 
fact,  than  that  of  resentment.  And  although,  reasoning 
on  the  principles  of  nature  merely,  without  taking  into 
view  the  duty  of  forgiveness  inculcated  in  the  Scriptures, 
we  may  justify  its  deliberate  and  voluntary  exercise  in 
many  cases,  it  must  h(  admitted,  on  the  whole,  that  it  is 
particularly  liable  to  a  perverted  and  excessive  action.  It 
IS  too  frequently  the  fact,  that  man  is  found  wreaking  his 
anger  on  those  who,  on  a  full  and  candid  examination  of 
all  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  would  be  found  entitled 
to  no  such  treatment. 

One  cajse  of  the  frequency  of  excessive  and  unjustih- 
able  resentment  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact,  that,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  suffering  or  loss  we  endure,  our  thoughts 
<re  wholly  taken  up  with  our  own  situation,  an.l  we  find 


364  THE    M/LKVOLENT    ATFEuTIOMS 

It  veiy  difficult  to  estimate  properly  either  the  facts  tn 
the  motives  uf  our  sup})osed  adversary's  ccnduQt.  If  we 
.'tould  turn  away  our  thoughts  from  ourselves,  so  far  as 
fully  to  undei'stand  all  the  circumstances  of  a  proceeding 
which,  in  itself  considered,  we  have  found  so  injurious  tc 
L3,  we  should  frequently  be  willing  to  check  the  vehe* 
mence  of  our  anger,  if  we  did  not  wholly  extinguish  it. 

Nature,  however,  has  herself  instituted  some  checks  on 
the  undue  exercise  of  this  passion. — First.  The  exercise 
of  this  passion  is,  in  its  very  nature,  painful.  It  is  in  this 
respect  very  different  from  the  exercise  o^  the  benevolent 
affections,  which  is  pleasant.  So  great  is  the  pain  at- 
tendant upon  deliberate  and  protracted  anger,  that  it  is 
not  uncommon  to  hear  persons  assert  that  they  have  them- 
selves endured  more  suffering  in  their  own  minds  than 
the  gratilication  of  their  passions  has  caused  to  their  op- 
ponents. Nature  seems  to  have  attached  this  penalty  to 
the  exercise  of  this  passion,  in  order  to  remind  men,  at 
the  most  appropriate  moment,  of  the  necessity  of  keepinfr 
it  in  due  subjection. 

Second,  Whenever  our  resentment  passes  the  proper 
bounds,  the  feelings  of  the  community,  which  were  be- 
fore in  our  favour,  immediately  turn  against  us.  We  are 
so  constituted  that  we  naturally  desire  the  good  opinion 
of  others  ;  and,  consequently,  the  loss  of  their  good  opin- 
ion operates  upon  us  as  a  punishment,  and  not  unfrequent- 
ly  a  severe  one.  Under  the  influence  of  the  experience 
or  the  anticipation  of  this  incidental  retribution,  it  is  not 
unfrequently  the  case,  that  men  restrict  within  proper 
Dounds  those  angry  feelings,  which,  under  other  circum- 
stances, they  would  probably  have  indulged  to  excess. 

Third.  The  tendency  of  the  indulgence  of  anger  is  to 
lower  a  man  in  his  own  estimation,  and  still  more  so  in 
tlie  estimation  of  others,  who  will  be  less  ready  to  admit 
those  mitigating  circumstances  that  partially  justify  his 
feelings  to  himself.  The  mere  outward  signs  of  the  an- 
gry passions  give  a  shock  to  our  sensibilities,  and  are 
hateful  to  us ;  while  those  of  an  opposite  character  beam 
apon  the  soul  with  the  pleasantness  of  a  tranquil  mora- 
mg's  light.  The  smile  of,  benevolence  wins  upon  our 
aliijt. lions;  bit  the  scowl  of  anger,  whether  it  be  directwJ 


THE    MALEVOLENl    AFFECTIONS.  36* 

ftujiuist  ourselves  or  others,  fills  ns  with  pam  and  dread 
And,  moreover,  while  the  indulgence  of  anger  temls,  as  a 
ejeneral  thing,  to  degi-ade  the  subject  of  it  in  our  view 
we  look  with  increased  respect  and  honour  on  those  who 
successfullv  resist  its  approaches,  and  are  calm  and  for* 
bearing  amid  insult  and  injury. 

■')  349.   Olhcr  reasons  for  checking  and  subduing  the  angry  {lassicns 

In  aldition  to  those  checks  to  the  angry  passions  which 
titurfe  herself  seems  to  have  furnished,  it  may  be  proper 
to  mention  a  few  considerations,  drawn  from  reason  and 
the  Scriptures,  which,  if  they  have  the  weight  they  are 
entitled  to,  will  tend  to  the  same  desirable  result. —  (1.) 
We  should  always  keep  in  recollection,  in  the  first  place, 
that  when  the  mind  is  much  agitated  by  passion,  it  is  ren- 
dered by  that  circumstance  itself  incapable,  to  a  consid- 
erable degree,  of  correct  judgment.  Actions,  considered 
as  the  indications  of  feeling  and  character,  do  not  at  sucL 
times  appear  to  us  in  their  true  light.  They  are  seer/ 
through  an  unfavourable  medium,  and  represented  un- 
r.  iturally,  with  distorted  and  discoloured  features.  It  h, 
said  to  have  been  a  saying  of  Socrates  to  his  servant  oii 
a  certain  occasion,  that  he  would  beat  Km  if  he  were  noi 
anory;  a  remark  which  seems  to  indicate  that,  in  thf 
opinion  of  the  author  of  it,  anger  is  a  state  of  mind  unfa- 
vourable to  a  correct  judgment  of  the  merit  or  demerit  ol 
fhe  person  towards  wliom  it  is  directed. 

(2.)  We  should  consider,  in  the  second  place,  even  if 
we  have  no  particular  reason  to  distrust  our  powers  oi 
judging,  that  we  may,  by  possibility  at  least,  have  mista« 
ken" the  motives  of  the  person  whom  we  imagine  to  have 
injured  us.  Perhaps  the  oversight  or  crime  w^hich  we 
allege  against  him,  instead  of  being  premeditated  or  in- 
teiitional,  was  mere  inadvertence.  It  is  even  possible  thai 
hb  intentions  were  favourable  to  us,  instead  of  being,  aa 
we  suppose,  of  a  contrary  character.  And  if  it  were  oth 
erv;ise ;  if  the  wrong  done  us  were  an  intentional  wrong, 
it  ii  still  possible  that  this  hostile  disposition  may  have 
originated  from  serious  misconceptions  in  regard  to  ou! 
own  character  and  conduct.  And  obviously  the  easiesi 
and  best  way  would  be  to  correct  these  misconceptioiiS 
Hh2 


36G  lliE    MALEVOLENT    AFFECTIONS. 

and  thus  to  secure  safety  for  the  future,  ar.d,  in  ali  proo- 
ability,  recompense  for  the  past. 

(3.)  There  is  another  consideration  which  ou;^ht  to 
prevent  the  indulgence  of  this  passion  and  to  allay  its 
effects.  It  is,  that  all  have  offended  against  the  S.ipreme 
Being,  and  stand  in  need  of  pardon  from  Him.  If  we 
ourselves  were  without  sin ;  if  we  could  boast  of  perfect 
purity  of  character,  there  might  seem  to  be  some  degree 
)f  reasonableness  in  our  exacting  from  others  the  full 
amount  of  what  is  due  to  perfect  and  inflexible  rectitude. 
But  the  actual  state  of  things  is  far  different  from  this 
Every  one  who  knows  his  own  heart  must  see  and  feel 
himself  to  be  a  transgressor.  How  unsuitably,  therefore, 
to  the  circumstances  of  his  own  situation,  does  that  man 
conduct  who  talks  largely  of  satisfaction  and  revenge, 
when  he  is  every  moment  dependent  on  the  clemency 
and  foro-iveness  of  a  Being  whom  he  has  himself  so  often 
sinned  against. 

In  the  fourth  place,  there  are  many  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture w^hich  expressly  require  us  to  subdue  the  malevolent 
passions,  and  to  forgive  the  injuries  which  have  called 
them  into  action.  And  this,  we  may  here  take  occasion 
to  remark,  is  one  of  the  great  and  striking  characteristics 
of  the  Gospel  revelation.  The  doctrine,  that  we  are  to 
love  and  do  good  to  our  enemies,  obviously  distinguishes 
the  Christian  Code  from  every  other;  and  gives  to  it,  as 
compared  with  mere  humar  systems,  an  inexpressible  ele- 
vation. Its  language  is,  "'  Ye  have  heard,  it  hath  been 
5a!d,  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  and  hate  thine  enemy 
But  I  say  unto  you,  love  your  enemies ;  bless  them  that 
curse  you ;  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for 
Lhem  which  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you." 

^350.  Modificaiicns  of  resentment.      Peevishness. 

When,  in  all  ordinary  cases,  the  resentful  feeling  sho'wa 
itself,  we  variously  denominate  it  by  the  terms  resentment, 
'lostility,  anger,  hatred,  indignation,  and  the  like  ;  but 
ihcre  nre  some  modifications  of  the  feeling,  distinguished 
lUther  by  excess  or  diminution,  or  in  some  other  way, 
which  may  be  regarded  as  possessing  a  distinctive  char* 
acter.     One  of  these  is  peevishness  or  fretfulnes^;  a 


THli    MAi.EVUL.>:Ni    AFFECTIONS.  367 

/speiies  (»1  inalevoknt  passion  which,  probably  with  mort 
frequency  than  its  decided  manifest ations,  int<!rrupts  the 
peace  and  happiness  of  hfe. 

Peevishness  differs  from  ordinary  anger  in  being  exci- 
sed by  vciy  trifling  circumstances,  and  in  a  strange  facil- 
ity of"  inflicting  its  effe'^ts  on  everybody  and  everythinti 
witliin  its  reach.  Tho  peevish  man  has  met  with  some 
trifling  disappointment,  (it  matters  but  hitle  what  it  is.) 
•tnd  the  serenity  of  whole  days  is  disturbed ;  no  smiles 
Kve  lo  be  seen;  everything,  whether  animate  or  inani- 
axdte,  rational  or  irrational,  is  out  of  place,  and  falls  under 
ihe  rebuke  of  this  fretful  being. — Anger,  in  its  most  mark- 
ed and  decided  manifestations,  may  be  compared  to  a 
thunder-shower,  that  comes  dark  and  heavily,  but  leaves 
a  clear  sky  afterward.  But  peevishness  is  like  an  ob- 
scure, drizzling  fog ;  it  is  less  violent,  and  lasts  longer 
In  geneial,  it  is  more  unreasonable  and  unjust  than  vio 
lent  aneer,  and  would  certainly  be  more  disagreeable, 
were  it  not  often,  in  consequence  of  being  so  dispropor- 
tioned  to  its  cause,  so  exceedingly  ludicrous. 

<^  3jI.  Mollifications  of  resentment.     Eavy. 

One  of  the  most  frequent  forms  of  resentment  is  Envy 
By  this  term  we  are  accustomed  to  express  that  ill-will 
or  hatred  which  has  its  rise  from  the  contemplation  of  the 
superiority  of  another.  Considered  as  a  mere  state  of  the 
mind.  Envy  is  to  be  regarded  as  only  one  of  the  perver- 
sions of  resentment ;  but,  considered  in  respect  to  the  oc- 
casions of  its  origin,  it  must  be  added  that  it  is  one  of  the 
most  degrading  and  hateful  perversions.  There  is  no 
passion  which  is  more  tormenting  in  the  "experience,  ai 
nright  be  expected  from  its  hatefulness ;  and  none  which 
Ls  more  decisively  condemned  by  the  sentiments  of  justice. 

If  we  are  asked  why  it  is  that,  on  the  mere  contem- 
(iiation  of  the  more  favourable  situation,  and  the  greater 
advancement  of  another,  we  experience  such  an  odious 
perversion  of  a  principle  apparently  good  in  itself,  wc 
fihali  probably  find  a  reason  in  the  irregular  and  inordi- 
uate  action  of  the  principle  of  Self-love.  Men  frequently 
become  so  intensely  selfish,  that  they  cannot  admit  others 
fo  an  '^uial  particJWOtinn  r^f  wliat  they  enjoy,  much  le,'« 


4bb  THE    MALEVOLF.NT   AFFECnONS. 

see  them  advanced  to  a  higher  situation,  witiiout  a  £»ieatei 
or  less  degree  of  repining  and  discontent.  And  it  is  th.L"< 
stote  of  mind  wliich  is  appropriately  denominated  E.n\y 

^  352.  Modifications  of  resentment.     Jealousy. 

There  are  still  other  varieties  of  that  Resentment  o! 
Hostility,  which  may  be  regarded,  in  some  importanl 
ense,  as  the  basis  of  the  whole  series  of  the  Malevolenl 
passions.  Among  these  is  Jealousy,  which  includes  a 
painful  emotion  caused  by  some  object  of  love,  and  at- 
tended with  a  desire  of  evil  towards  that  object. — Tht 
cu'cumstance  which  characterizes  this  passion,  and  consti- 
tutes its  peculiar  trait,  is,  that  all  its  bitterness  and  hostil- 
ity are  inflicted  on  some  one  whom  the  jealous  person 
loves.  The  feeling  of  suspi-cious  rivalship  which  often 
exists  between  candidates  for  fame  and  power,  is  some- 
times called  jealousy,  on  account  of  its  analogy  to  this 
passion. — There  are  various  degrees  of  jealousy,  from  the 
forms  of  more  mistrust  and  watchful  suspicion  to  its  high- 
est paroxysms.  In  general,  the  strength  of  the  passion 
will  be  found  to  be  in  proportion  to  the  value  which  is 
attached  to  the  object  of  it ;  and  is,  perhaps,  more  fre- 
quently found  in  persons  who  have  a  large  shart  of  pride 
than  in  others.  Such,  in  consequence  of  the  habitual  be- 
lief of  their  own  superiority,  are  likely  to  notice  many 
tiifling  inadvertencies,  and  to  treasure  them  up  as  proofs 
of  intended  neglect,  which  would  not  have  been  observed 
by  others,  and  certainly  were  exempt  from  any  evil  in- 
dention. 

The  person  under  the  influence  of  this  passion  is  inca- 
pable of  forming  a  correct  judgment  of  the  conduct  of  the 
mdividual  who  is  the  object  of  it ;  he  observes  everything 
and  gives  it  the  worst  interpretation ;  and  circumstances 
which,  in  another  state  of  the  mind,  would  have  bees 
tokens  of  innocence,  are  converted  into  proof  of  guilt 
Allhoyprh  poetry,  it  is  no  fiction : 

"  Trifles,  light  as  air. 
Arc  to  the  jci  jus  confirmation  strong 
As  proofs  of  holy  writ." 

Hence  it  is  justly  said  to  be  the  monster  that  "  makes 
tlie  mot  it  feeds  on ;"  for  it  perseverngly  broods  ove? 


THE    MALEVOLENT    AFFECTIONS.  3()2 

the  slightest  suggestion,  even  when  made  with  (he  most 
sincere  kindness,  and  rears  up  a  shapeless  and  fiightful 
form,  which  in  turn  nourishes  the  baleful  passion  fiom 
vvhich  is  derived  its  own  existence. 

It  may  be  remarked  of  this  passion,  that  it  is  at  times 
exceedingly  violent.  At  one  moment  the  mind  is  ani- 
"lated  with  all  the  feelings  of  kindness ;  the  next,  it  ii 
.ransported  with  the  strongest  workings  of  hatred,  and 
i"hen  it  is  suddenly  overwhelm.ed  with  contrition.  Con- 
rinually  vacillating  between  the  extremes  of  love  and 
hatred,  it  knows  no  rest ;  it  would  gladly  bring  destruc- 
tion on  the  object  whom  it  dreads  to  lose  more  than  any 
other,  and  whom  at  times  it  loves  more  than  any  other. 

^  353.   Modifications  of  resentment.     Revenge. 

Another  of  the  marked  modifications  of  Resentment  is 
REVENGE.  By  the  spirit  of  revenge,  as  we  sometimes  ex- 
press it,  we  generally  understand  a  disposition  not  mere- 
ly to  return  suffering  for  suffering,  but  to  inflict  "a  degree 
of  pain  on  the  person  who  is  supposed  to  have  injured  us, 
beyond  what  strict  justice  requires.  So  that  revenge 
seems  cO  ditfer  from  resentment  rather  in  degree  than  in 
kind ;  in  other  words,  it  is  unrestrained  or  excessive  re- 
sentment. It  is  true,  however,  that  it  generally  implies 
something  more  than  mere  excess.  It  commonly  exhibits 
the  aspect  of  coolness  and  deliberateness  in  its  designs ; 
and  is  as  persevering  in  the  execution  of  its  hostile  plans 
as  it  is  deliberate  in  forming  them.  If  resentment,  when 
properly  regulated,  may  be  considered,  on  the  principles 
of  nature,  as  morally  right,  revenge,  which  is  the  unre- 
strained or  inordinate  form  of  resentment,  is  always  mor- 
ally wrong.  It  is  a  passion  which  is  not  only  greatly  m« 
consistent  with  the  due  exercise  of  the  other  powers  of  thf 
laind,  but  is  equally  condemned  by  enlightened  ccn* 
v.iencc  and  the  Scriptures. 

^  354.  Nature  of  .he  passion  of  fear. 

We  conclude  this  review  of  this  portion  of  the  Afiec 

tions  with  a  single  other  iiotice.     The  passion  of  Fear^ 

kethe  other  passions  or  affections  that  have  passed  undei 

iamination,  embraces  both   a  simnle  emotion  cf  pain. 


.'>70  THE    MALEVOLENT    AFFECI'IONS 

paused  by  some  object  which  we  anticipate  will  oc  inju* 
nous  to  us^  and  also  additional  to  the  painful  emotion,  the 
desire  of  avoiding  such  object  or  its  injurious  effects. — 
The  question  might  suggest  itself  wilh  some  appearance 
CI  reason,  whether  Fear,  in  view  of  the  definition  j'ist 
)^,iM:ri,  should  be  included  under  the  general  head  of  the 
Malevolent  passions.  And  this  is  one  of  the  cases  refer- 
red t.3,  in  separating  the  Affections  into  the  twofold  di- 
Tijion  of  the  Benevolent  and  Malevolent,  w^hen  it  wa« 
remarked,  it  might  not  in  all  respects  be  easy  to  carry  the 
arrangement  into  effect  in  its  details.  Nevertheless,  the 
fe.;t  that  v.'e  experience  pain  in  viewing  the  object  feared, 
accompanied  with  a  desire  of  avoiding  it,  seems  very 
cl  larly  to  involve  the  idea  that  it  is  an  object  of  greater 
or  less  aversion.  In  other  words,  that  we  have  more  or 
ietis  ill  w^ill  towards  it.  It  is  certainly  the  case  if  tlie 
objrct  is  of  such  a  nature  that  its  presence  is  painful,  that 
we  can  hardly  be  said  to  love  it.  So  that,  at  least,  it 
wculd  se'era  to  come  more  naturally  under  the  head  of  the 
(calevolent  affections  than  under  the  other  class. 

But  to  return  to  the  nature  of  the  passion  itself.  The 
strength  or  intensity  of  fear  will  be  in  proportion  to  the 
apjn-ehended  evil.  There  is  a  difference  of  original  sus- 
ceptibihty  of  this  passion  in  different  persons;  and  the 
amount  of  apprehended  evil  will  consequently  vary  w^th 
the  quickness  of  such  susceptibility.  But,  Avhatever 
causes  may  increase  or  diminish  the  opinion  of  the  de- 
gree of  evil  which  threatens,  there  will  be  a  correspond- 
ence between  the  opinion  wdiich  is  formed  of  it  and  the 
fearful  passion. 

When  this  passion  is  extieme,  it  prevents  the  due  ex- 
.»rcise  of  the  moral  susceptibility,  and  interrupts  correct 
.".dgment  of  any  kind  whatever.  It  is  a  state  of  mind 
jf  great  power,  and  one  which  will  not  bear  to  be  trifled 
with.  It  may  serve  as  a  profitable  hint  to  remark,  that 
there  have  been  persons  throw^n  into  a  fright  suddenly, 
^nd  perhaps  in  mere  sport,  w^hich  has  immediately  result- 
'J  i  in  a  most  distressing  and  permanent  mental  disorgani- 
sation . — In  c  ases  where  the  anticipated  evil  is  very  great, 
and  there  is  no  hope  of  avoiding  it  in  any  way,  tlic  rai'iC 
^ixists  ii^  tliat  state  \^hich  is  called  despair.     But  the  cf  > 


TTTE    BENEVOLEM    Al  f  tCTIONS.  37  i 

sidtration  of  this  deplorable  state  of  mind,  so  fui  as  it 
may  be  necessary  to  meet  the  objects  of  the  pi  esent 
Work,  will  more  properly  come  under  the  head  of  Dib- 
.)rdered  or  Alienated  Sensibilities 


CHAPTER  VL. 

THE    BENEVOLENT    AFFECTiONS. 
0  355.  Of  the  naiuie  of  love  or  benevolence  in  gcnevai. 

We  proceed  now  to  the  consideration  of  the  other  greiw 
division  of  the  Afiections.  As  the  original  principle  of 
Resentment  is  the  basis  of  the  Malevolent  affections,  so 
Love,  in  its  more  general  form,  appears  to  be  at  the  found- 
ation, as  a  general  thing  at  least,  of  those  which  are 
termed,  by  way  of  distinction.  Benevolent.  The  affection 
of  Love,  like  the  other  affections,  is  a  complex  state  of 
mind,  embracing,  first,  a  pleasant  emotion  in  view  ol 
(he  object ;  and,  second,  a  desire  of  good  to  that  object. 

-Hence  there  will  always  be  found  in  the  object  some 
quality,  either  some  excellence  in  the  form,  or  in  the  rela- 
tions sustained,  or  in  the  intellect,  or  in  the  moral  traits, 
or  in  all  combined,  which  is  capable  of  exciting  a  pleas- 
urable emotion.  This  emotion  is  the  basis  of  the  subse- 
quent desire  ;  but  it  is  the  strict  and  indissoluble  combi 
nation  of  the  two  that  constitutes  the  Affection  properly 
so  called. 

It  is  proper  to  remark  here  that  there  are  many  mod- 
ifications or  degrees  of  this  affection ;  such  as  the  un- 
mipassioned  preference  of  friendly  regard  and  esteem, 
tlic  warmer  glow  of  friendship  in  the  more  usual  accep- 
tation of  the  term,  and  the  increased  feeling  of  devoted 
attachment.  There  are  not  only  differences  in  degree, 
bu.t  the  afifection  itself,  considered  in  respect  to  its  nature 
dimply,  seems  to  be  modified,  and  to  be  invested  \vith  a 
li liferent  aspect,  according  to  the  circumstances  in  which 
t  is  found  to  operate.  The  love  which  children  feel  for 
iheir  parents  i?  diifei-ent  i)i  some  respects  from  t.b'  ^  ^^eicV 


372  THK    BENEVOLENT    AFEECTIO^S. 

tliey  feel  for  their  brothers  and  sisters.  The  love  of  pa- 
rents for  their  chillren  possesses  traits,  difficult  to  be  de- 
scribed in  language,  but  recognisable  by  Consciousnoss, 
which  distinguish  it  from  their  love  to  mankind  gener- 
ally, or  their  love  to  their  country,  or  their  friends.  Hence 
-I'C  are  enabled,  in  consistency  with  what  is  the  fact  ia 
i'esj^ect  to  them,  to  consider  the  Affections  under  differ- 
!  nt  forms  or  heads,  viz.,  the  Parental  affection,  the  Filial 
'  jf* 'ijion,  the  Fraternal  affection.  Humanity,  or  the  love 
:tf  the  human  race.  Patriotism,  or  the  love  of  country 
Friendship,  Gratitude,  and  Sympathy  or  Pity. 

•J  356.  Love,  in  its  various  forpis,  cliaracierizcd  by  a  twofold  action 

Love,  not  only  in  its  more  general  form,  but  in  all  the. 
varieties  which,  in  consequence  of  our  situation  and  of 
the  relations  we  sustain,  it  is  made  to  assume,  is  charac- 
terized, like  the  opposite  principle  of  resentment,  by  its 
twofold  action.  It  is  sometimes  seen,  particularly  in  pa- 
rents and  children,  to  operate  instinctively  ;  that  is  to 
say,  without  deliberation  or  forethought.  At  other  times 
it  is  subjected  to  more  or  less  of  regulation,  being  either 
stimulated  or  repressed  in  its  exercise  by  the  facts  and 
reflections  which  are  furnished  by  reasoning ;  and  then  il 
is  said  to  possess  a  deliberate  or  voluntary  exercise.- 
This  trait  or  characteristic,  which  pervades  the  whole  se 
ries  of  the  Natural  or  Pathematic  sensibilities,  has  been 
so  often  referred  to  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  delay  upon 
'<"  here. 

^  357.  Of  the  parental  afTectioii. 

The  principle  of  benevolence,  love,  or  good-will,  which 
in  its  general  form,  has  thus  been  made  the  subject  of  a 
brief  notice,  is  susceptible,  like  the  malevolent  atfection 
of  Resentment,  of  various  modifications.  One  of  the 
most  interesting  and  important  of  these  modifications  ia 
Ihe  Parental  Affection. — The  view  wdiich  we  propose  to 
take  of  this  modification  of  benevolence  or  love  is,  that  it 
is  an  original  or  implanted  principle.  In  support  of  this 
view  a  number  of  things  may  be  said. 

(I.)  It  is  supported,  in  the  iirst  place,  by  the  considera- 
don,  that  the  relation  between   .he  parent  and  child  SS 


THE    EENEYOLENT    AFFECTIONS  37« 

mucn  more  intimate  and  indissoluble  than  any  othei.  Thfi 
child,  in  the  view  of  the  parent,  is  not  so  much  a  distinct 
and  independent  being  as  a  reproduction  and  continuance, 
of  himself  He  sees  not  only  the  reflection  of  his  person 
and  dispositions  in  his  offspring,  but  of  his  hopes,  joyis. 
and  prospects ;  in  a  word,  of  his  whole  being.  Under 
nich  cu'cumstances,  it  is  almost  impossible  that  the  pa- 
rental atiection  should  be  less  deeply  seated,  less  near  to 
ihe  root  and  bottom  of  the  soul,  than  any  other  which 
can  be  named. 

(II.)  Such  an  affection  seems,  in  the  second  place,  t(j 
be  required  in  order  to  enable  parents  to  discharge  effec- 
tually the  duties  which  are  incumbent  upon  them.  The 
cares  and  troubles  necessarily  incidental  to  the  parental 
relation,  the  daily  anxieties,  the  nights  of  wakeful  solici- 
tude, the  misgivings,  the  fears,  and  the  sorrows  without 
number,  it  would  be  impossible  for  human  nature  to  sup- 
port without  the  aid  of  an  implanted  principle. — And 
hence  it  is,  that,  in  the  ordering  and  constitution  of  na- 
ture, this  principle  rises  in  such  inexpressible  beauty  upon 
the  parental  heart.  It  difilises  its  light  upon  it,  like  a  star 
jpon  a  tempestuous  ocean,  and  guides  it  forward  in  com- 
parative safety. 

(III.)  In  the  third  place,  the  acknowledged  fact  that 
this  affection  has  an  instinctive  as  well  as  a  voluntary 
action,  is  a  strong  circumstance  in  favour  of  its  being  re- 
garded as  implanted.  A  purely  voluntary  affection  can- 
not, from  the  nature  of  the  case,  be  implanted,  because  it 
depends  upon  the  Will ;  and  will  either  exist  or  not  exist, 
in  accordance  wath  the  mere  volitive  determination.  An 
instinctive  affection  cannot  be  otherwise  than  implanted  , 
because,  as  it  does  not  depend  upon  the  will,  it  has  no 
Other  support  than  in  nature.  Nbw,  although  this  affec- 
tion has  a  voluntary  action,  based  upon  inquiry  and  rea- 
son,  it  has  also,  at  its  foundation,  an  instinctive  action, 
which  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  work  of  the  avithor  of  the 
mind  himself.  So  that,  although  it  is  proper  to  accom- 
pany the  statement  with  the  remark  that  it  has  a  twofold 
action,  the  affection,  regarded  as  a  whole,  may  justly  bt! 
looked  upon  as  an  criijinal  or  implanted  one. 

(IV.)  In  the  fouith  place,  its  universaJitv  is  a  r In  un) 
I 


.^74  THE    BENEVOLENT    AFFEjriONS. 

Stance  in  iav(;ur  of  the  view  which  has  been  taken.  We 
should  naturally  oxpect,  in  regard  to  any  affection  not 
implanted,  and  whii  :h  depends  exclusively  upon  the  de- 
cisions of  the  reason  and  the  will,  that  there  would  Lr 
frequent  failai'es  in  its  exercise.  We  may  even  be  confi- 
dent that  this  would  be  the  result.  But  the  parental  affec- 
tion, in  a  mind  not  actually  disordered,  never  fails.  In 
jli  climes  and  countries,  and  among  all  classes  of  men, 
however  debased  by  ignorance  or  perverted  by  the  prev 
ftlence  of  vice,  we  may  lind  the  traces,  and  with  scarcely 
an  exception,  the  marked  and  distinct  traces  of  this  enno- 
bling principle.  There  is  no  portion  of  the  human  race 
so  degraded  that  it  would  not  turn  with  abhorrence  from 
the  man  that  did  not  love  his  offspring. 

^  358.   Illustrations  of  the  strength  of  the  parental  afTection  ' 

(V.)  Another  circumstance  in  favour  of  regarding  the 
principle  as  an  implanted  one  is  its  great  strength.  Sec- 
ondary affections,  or  those  which,  by  a  process  of  associa- 
tion, are  built  upon  others,  are  sometimes,  it  is  true,  ex- 
c-eedingly  strong ;  but  this  is  found  to  be  the  case  only  in 
particular  instances,  and  not  as  a  general  trait.  In  rescect 
to  the  affection  before  us,  it  is  not  found  to  be  strong  in 
one  mind  and  weak  in  another,  but  is  strong,  cxcedingly 
strong,  as  a  general  statement,  in  all  minds  alike.  Il 
might  be  interesting  to  give  some  illustrations  of  thi^ 
statement,  as,  in  truth,  scarcely  any  of  the  facts  illustrativo 
of  the  mind's  action  in  its  various  departments  are  wholl) 
destitute  of  interest.  But,  on  this  subject,  such  is  the  uni- 
versal intensity  of  this  affection,  that  they  multijily  on 
every  side.  He  who  has  not  noticed  them  has  volunta- 
rily shut  his  eyes  to  some  of  the  most  interesting  exhibi- 
tions of  human  nature.  So  that  a  single  incident  of  this 
kind,  which  will  not  fail  to  find  a  corroborative  testimony 
in  every  mother's  heart,  will  suffice. 

"  When  the  Ajax  man-of-war  took  fire  in  the  straits  of 
Bot;phorus  in  the  year  1807,  an  awfal  scene  of  distraction 
ensued.  The  ship  was  of  great  size,  full  of  people,  and 
under  the  attack  of  an  enemy  at  the  time ;  the  mouths  of 
dostn-ction  seemed  to  wage  in  contention  for  their  prey 
Ma»v  of  those  on  boa- 1\  could  entertain  no  hopes  of  de- 


TiIE.    BENCVOLENT    AFFECTIONS.  37& 

iivcratice :  striving  to  shun  one  devouring  element,  they 
were  the  victims  of  anothsr.  While  the  conflagration 
was  raging  furiously,  and  shrieks  of  terror  rent  the  air 
ttn  unfortunate  mother,  regardless  of  herself,  seemed  soli- 
citous only  for  the  safety  of  her  infant  child.  She  nevei 
attempted  to  escape ;  but  she  committed  it  to  the  charge 
of  an  officer,  who,  at  her  earnest  request,  endeavoured  to 
secure  it  in  his  coat;  and,  folloving  the  tender  deposit? 
with  her  eyes  as  he  retired,  she  calmly  awaited  that  ca 
tastrophe  in  wdiich  the  rest  were  about  to  be  involvec., 
.\mid  the  exertions  of  the  officer  in  such  an  emergency, 
the  infant  dropped  into  the  sea,  which  was  no  sooner  dis- 
covered by  the  unhappy  parent,  than,  frantic,  she  plunged 
from  the  vessel's  side  as  if  to  preserve  it ;  she  sunk,  and 
was  seen  no  more."* 

i^i  359.   Of  the  filial  affection. 

As  a  counteipart  to  the  interesting  and  important  ailer- 
tion  which  has  thus  been  briefly  noticed,  nature  has  insti- 
tuted the  filial  affection,  or  that  affection  which  childrer 
bear  to  their  parents.  The  filial  affection,  although  it 
agrees  with  the  parental  in  the  circumstance  of  its  being 
implanted  or  connatural  in  the  human  mind,  differs  from 
it  in  some  of  its  traits. — It  is  understood,  among  other 
things,  to  possess  less  strength.  And  it  is  undoubtedly 
the  fact,  that  it  does  not,  as*  a  general  thing,  flow  forth 
towards  its  object  with  the  same  burning,  unmitigated  in 
tensity.  And  this  is  just  what  we  might  expect,  on  the 
supposition  that  the  human  mind  comes  from  an  Author 
who  possesses  all  wisdom.  'The  great  practical  object  for 
which  the  parental  affection  is  implanted  in  the  bosoms 
of  parents,  is  to  secure  to  their  offspring  that  close  atten- 
tion and  care  which  are  so  indispensable  in  the  incipient 
stages  of  life.  The  responsibility  which  rests  upon  thera 
m  the  discharge  of  their  duties  to  their  children,  is,  in  {he. 
vii^iety  of  its  applications  and  in  the  aggregate  of  its 
amount,  obviously  greater  than  that  which  rests  upon 
children  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty  to  their  parents. 
iN^othmg  could  answer,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  the 
requisitions  which  are  constantly  made  on  the  par(?nt  t: 
*  Origin  and  Puijrress  of  the  I'assioni   (Anonymous,)  vol  i.,  p    148 


376  THE  BENEVOLENT  AFFECTIONS 

meet  the  child's  co.idition  of  weakness,  sulFering,  ano 
want,  and  to  avert  i:s  liabihties,  both  mental  and  bodily, 
to  error,  bvit  the  wakeful  energy  of  a  principle  stronger 
evin  than  the  love  of  life.  15ut  it  is  different  on  the  perl 
of  the  children.  As  a  general  thing,  no  such  calls  ol 
constant  anxiety  and  watchfulness  in  the  behalf  of  an- 
other are  made  upon  them,  at  least  in  the  early  part  of 
theii  life  Hence  their  love  to  their  parer.ts,  although 
unquestionably  strong  enough  for  the  intentions  of  nature, 
burns  with  a  gentler  ray. 

§  360.   The  filial  affect. on  original  or  iniplaiilec]. 

We  took  occasion,  in  the  preceding  section,  to  remark 
tHvndentally,  that  the  filial  affection,  as  well  as  the  parent- 
al, is  original  or  implanted,  in  distinction  from  the  doc- 
trine of  its  being  of  an  associated  or  secondary  formation 
It  is  not  our  purpose,  however,  to  enter  minutely  into  this 
inquiry ;  and  yet  there  are  one  or  two  trains  of  thought 
having  a  bearing  upon  it  which  we  are  unwilling  wholly 
to  omit. — Our  first  remark  is,  that  if  the  filial  affection 
were  wholly  voluntary  and    not   implanted ;    in   other 
words,  if  it  were  based  wholly  on  reason  and  reflection, 
there  is  no  question  that  it  would  be  extinguished  much 
more  frequently  than  it  is  in  point  of  fact.     But  that  mere 
reason  and  reflection  are  not  the  entire  basis  of  the  affec- 
tion, seems  to  be  evident  from  the  fact  that  we  continue 
to  love  our  parents  under  circumstances  when  reason,  if 
we  consulted  that  alone,  would  probably  pronounce  them 
unworthy  of  love.     Our  parents,  as  is  sometimes  the  case, 
may  treat  us  with  great  and  unmerited  neglect ;  they  may 
plunge  into  the  commission  of  crimes ;  they  may  become 
degraded  and  despised  in  the  eyes  of  the  community ; 
but  they  still  have  a  pure  and  elevated  place,  which  na- 
ture has  furnished  for  them  in  their  children's  hearts  — 
This  train  of  thought  (which,  it  is  proper  to  remark  in 
passing,  is  equally  applicable  to  parental  love,  and  tends 
to  confirm  the  views  brought  forward  under  that  head) 
goes  with  no  small  weight  to  show  thr.t  the  affection  be- 
fr>re  us  has  an  instinctive  or  natural  basis. 

Our  second  remark,  which  is  also  equally  applicabh^  to 
r\ie  nareiital  affection,  is,  that  men,  with  scarcely  an  eie.p- 


THE    BENEV(JLKNT    AFFE^'TIUMX  377 

non,  sho^v,  b)  their  jiuignients  and  treatment  of  tliis  affec 
tion,  that  the}'  rc<i;ard  it  as  consiiti-tional  or  implanted 
It  is  evident  tliat  they  expect  us  to  treat  our  parents  with 
great  forbearance  and  kindness  under  all  circumstances. 
U  another  person  should  insult  and  injure  us,  public  sen- 
liment  would  probably  justify  us  in  inflicting  some  sort  of 
p  jMshinenl.  But  it  would  not  justify  us,  under  precisely 
tie  ['.anfje  ( ircumstances  of  provocation,  in  inflicting  pun- 
alimenl  upon,  or  even  showing  marked  disrespect  to  a 
jarent,  because  it  would  be  a  violation  of  nature.  Not 
merely  the  disapprobation,  but  the  contempt  and  abhor<- 
fence  of  mankind;  inflicted  with  scarcely  the  possibility' 
of  a  failure,  is  the  fearful  penalty  which  nature  has  at- 
tached to  a  want  of  parental  love,  even  when  the  conduct 
of  the  parent  himself  has  been  reprehensible. — This  is  evi- 
dently the  work  of  nature.  Men  act  in  this  case  as  their 
nature  prompts  them.  But  nature  is  never  at  variance 
with  herself.  If  she  in  this  w^ay  distinctly  intimates  that 
she  requires  us  to  love  our  parents  at  all  times,  in  adver- 
sity and  in  prosperity,  in  honour  and  in  degradation,  in 
good  and  in  evil  report,  it  is  obvious  that  she  has  not  left 
the  affection  to  mere  reason  and  reflection,  for  it  is  impos- 
sible that  love  so  unchangeable  could  be  sustained  in  suci 
a  manner,  but  supports  it  upon  an  instinctive  or  consti 
tJitional  basis. 

We  merely  add,  leaving  it  to  the  reader  himself  t^ 
make  the  application  of  the  remark,  that  nearly  all  the 
considerations  which  were  brought  forv/ard  to  show  the 
connatural  origin  of  the  parental  affection,  might  be  prop- 
erly adduced  to  show  the  same  thing  in  the  case  of  the 
nlial  affection. 

()  3G1.  Illustrations  of  the  iilial  affeclion. 

Interesting  instances  of  the  results  of  the  filial  affection 
ij«  to  be  found  wherever  there  are  men.  And  while  it 
b  admitted  that  there  are  some  unfavourable  tendencies 
ill  human  nature,  it  is  pleasant  to  contemplate  it  in  an  as- 
pect so  amiable  and  honourable.  It  is  the  fact,  indeed,  that 
children,  as  a  general  thing,  do  not  appear  to  be  willing 
tc  labour  and  suffer  so  much  for  parents  as  the  par  snts  do 
tor  tho  children.     There  are  more  frequent  instances  of  /^ 

Ii2 


378  THt  BEN&VOLKNT  AFFECTIONS. 

faikire  of  fi.JaJ  than  of  parental  love.  Neverthde&s,  la 
all  ages  ol  the  world,  the  filial  affection  has  sustained  it- 
self in  such  a  "way  as  to  bring  honour  to  the  I'eing  'hat 
hnplanted  it.  Children  have  not  only  supported  and 
consoled  their  parents  in  the  ordinary  duti^es  and  trials  Oi 
life,  but,  in  multitudes  of  instances,  have  followed  them 
with  their  presence  and  their  consolations  into  banishment 
uA  to  prison. 

At  the  accession  of  the  late  Emperor  Alexander  of 
Hussia,  many  prisoners,  who  had  been  confined  for  pohti- 
■r:al  and  other  reasons  in  the  preceding  reign,  were  set  at 
liberty. — "I  sav/,"  says  Kotzebue.who  was  in  Russia  at 
this  interesting  period,  "  an  old  colonel  of  the  Cossacks 
and  his  son  brought  from  the  fortress  to  Count  de  Pahlen's 
apartments.  The  story  of  this  generous  youth  is  exrcme- 
ly  interesting.  His  father  had  been  dragged,  for  I  know 
not  what  offence,  from  Tscherkask  to  Petersburg,  and 
there  closely  imprisoned.  Soon  afterward  his  son  arrived, 
a  handsome  and  brave  young  man,  w  ho  had  obtained,  in 
the  reign  of  Catharine  II.,  the  cross  of  St.  George  and 
that  of  Wolodimer.  For  a  long  time  he  exerted  himself 
to  procure  his  father's  enlargement  by  solicitations  and 
petitions ;  but,  perceiving  no  hopes  of  success,  he  request- 
ed, as  a  particular  favour,  to  be  allowed  to  share  his  cap- 
tivity and  misfortunes.  This  was  in  part  granted  to  him ; 
he  was  committed  a  prisoner  to  the  fortress,  but  was  not 
permitted  to  see  his  father  ;  nor  was  the  unfortunate  ohi 
man  ever  informed  that  his  son  was  so  near  him.  On  a 
sudden  the  prison  bolts  were  drawn ;  the  doors  were 
opened ;  his  son  rushed  into  his  arms ;  and  he  not  only 
learned  that  he  was  at  liberty,  but,  at  the  same  time,  was 
mformed  of  the  noble  sacrifice  v.-hich  filial  piety  had  of- 
f-ered.  He  alone  can  decide  which  information  gave  hiia 
liiost  delight."* 

It  is  true,  there  have  been  instances  of  parents  who 
have  done  more  than  this ;  who  have  not  only  been  rea- 
lly to  suffer  banishment  or  imprisoment,  but  have  willing- 
'.y  and  joyfully  offered  their  lives  for  the  welfare  of  theii 
I'hildren.  In  the  time  of  the  French  Revolution,  General 
Loizerolles,  availing  himself  of  a  stratagem  in  or  -er  tc 

Ko!/ebue"s  Fix''  \  i>   ?~l. 


THE  blnevoi.e:<v  affections.  37  f) 

tifect  tlw  oliject,  died  upon  the  scaffold  in  the  [laic  jvl 
his  son.  It  might  not  be  easy  to  bring  instances,  althougi] 
5ome  sucli  have  probably  existed,  of  children  uy-ng  i'oT 
their  parents.  But  history  furnishes  some  affecting  cases, 
where  the  child  has  poured  back  into  the  parental  Iwsora 
the  fountain  of  hfe  which  had  been  received. — "The 
mother  of  a  woman,"  says  the  writer  referred  to,  §  16S.j 
"  in  humble  life,  being  condemned  at  Rome,  the  jailer, 
'ather  than  execute  the  sentence,  wished  from  humanity 
'o  let  her  perish  of  fanune.  Meantime  no  one  but  her 
daughter  was  admitted  to  the  prison,  and  that  after  she 
was  strictly  searched.  But  the  curiosity  of  the  man  be- 
mg  aroused  by  the  unusual  duration  of  her  survivance, 
he  watched  their  interview,  and  discovered  the  daughtei- 
affectionately  nourishing  the  author  of  her  days  with  her 
own  milk.  The  people  among  whom  this  incident  occur- 
red were  not  insensible  of  its  virtue,  and  a  temple  dedica- 
ted to  Piety  was  afterward  erected  on  the  spot.  So  was 
an  aged  father,  under  similar  circumstances,  preserved  by 
similar  means :  he,  too,  was  thus  nourished  by  his  daugh- 
ter." 

(j  362.   Of  ihe  nature  of  the  fraternal  affection. 

1  here  is  one  other  affection  connected  with  the  fami- 
ly or  domestic  relation,  which  bears  the  marks,  although, 
oerhaps,  somewhat  less  distinctly  than  in  the  cases  already 
mentioned,  of  a  natural  or  implanted  origm.  We  refer, 
as  will  be  readily  understood,  to  the  Fraternal  Affection, 
or  the  love  of  brothers  and  sisters.  The  love  which  we 
bear  to  our  brothers  and  sisters,  although,  in  the  basis  or 
essentiality  of  its  nature,  it  is  the  same  with  any  other 
love,  has  something  peculiar  about  it,  a  trait  not  easily 
expressed  in  words,  which,  ia  our  internal  experience  or 
ionsciousnesi,  of  it,  distinguishes  it  from  every  other  af- 
fection. 

We  arc  aware  that  so;ne  will  endeavour  to  explain 
ibe  origin  of  this  affection  by  saying,  that  it  is  o^ving  to 
(he  circumstance  of  brothers  and  sisters  being  brought  up 
together  beneath  the  same  roof,  and  thus  participating 
ji  an  early  and  long  companionship.  Nor  are  we  dis- 
posed to  deny,  that  this  circumstance  probably  has  some 
•veigrbt  i  i  imiinrt'no;  to  it  an  increased  degree  of  inten- 


H^U  THb:    BLNEVOLENT    AFFECTiaN  J. 

siiy.  Bui  ihere  is  a  single  fact,  which  furnisheti  &u  &2i 
swer  to  the  (ioctrine,  that  denies  a  distinct  nature  to  th( 
I'raternal  Affection,  and  regards  it  as  a  mere  modificaticm 
of  love  in  general,  occasioned  by  the  circumstance  of 
early  and  long-continued  intercourse.  It  is  this.  Whej: 
other  persons,  not  members  of  the  same  family,  are 
brought  up  beneath  the  same  roof,  although  we  love 
them  very  much,  yet  we  never  have  that  peculiar  feeling 
(distinct  from  every  otlier  and  known  only  by  experience ; 
which  flows  out  to  a  brother  or  sister.  There  is  some 
tiling  in  having  the  same  father  and  mother,  in  looldng 
upward  to  the  same  source  of  origin,  in  being  nourished 
at  the  same  fountain  in  infancy,  in  feeling  the  same  life- 
blood  course  through  our  veins,  which  constitutes,  under 
ihe  creative  hand  of  nature,  a  sacred  tie  unlike  any  other. 
There  are  other  views  of  the  subject,  besides  that 
which  has  just  been  noticed,  which  contribute  to  show 
the  connaturalness  and  permanency  of  this  affection.  A 
.lumber  of  the  remarks  which  have  been  made  in  suppor* 
of  the  implanted  or  connatural  origin  of  the  Parental  and 
Filial  affections,  will  apply  here.  But  we  leave  the  sub 
ject  to  the  decision  of  such  reflections,  as  will  be  likely 
in  suggest  themselves  to  the  mind  of  the  reader  himself 

^  3G3.  On  the  utility  of  the  domestic  atTections. 

In  the  institution  of  the  affections  which  have  now- 
passed  under  a  rapid  and  imperfect  review,  and  which, 
taken  together^  may  be  spoken  of  under  the  general  de- 
nomination of  the  Domestic  affections,  we  have  evidence 
of  that  benevolence  and  wisdom  which  are  seen  so  fre- 
quently in  the  arrangements  of  our  mental  nature.  These 
affections  are  not  only  sources  of  happiness  to  indi^dd^= 
als  and  families,  diffusing  an  undefinable  but  powerful 
charm  over  the  intercourse  of  life ;  they  also  mdirectly 
exert  a  great  influence  in  the  support  of  society  generally 

It  was,  indeed,  a  strange  notion  of  some  of  the  an- 
cients, of  Plato  in  particular,  that  the  dom.estic  affections 
p.re  at  variance  with  the  love  of  country ;  and  that,  in 
order  to  extinguish  these  affections,  children  should  be 
taken  frcm  their  parents  at  their  birth,  and  transferred  to 
thft  state  iu  be  educated  at  the  pubhc  expense,     But  thf 


THE    BENEVOLENT    AFFECTDNS.  381 

domestic  affections  are  too  deeply  planted,  particularly  thai 
of  parents,  to  be  generally  destroyed  by  any  process  of 
this  kind  ;  and  if  it  were  otherwise,  the  result  would  be 
as  injurious  to  the  public  as  to  individual  happines?.  It 
13  unquestionable  that  one  of  the  great  supports  of  society 
cj  the  family  relation.  Who  is  most  watchful  and  diligent 
'li  )ils  business  ?  Who  is  the  most  constant  friend  of  pubhc 
.  rdf  r,  and  is  most  prompt  in  rallying  to  the  standard  of 
Lc  law '?  Wlio,  as  a  general  thing,  is  the  best  friend^  '.ht- 
he&t  nei,q;l).hour,  and  the  best  citizen  7  Not  he  who  1^  se^ 
loose  from  family  relationships,  and  wanders  abroad  with- 
out a  home ;  but  he,  however  poor  and  unknown  to  fame, 
who  has  a  father  and  mother,  wife  and  children, brotheis 
and  sisters;  who  sees  his  own  sorrows  and  happiness 
multiplied  in  the  sorrows  and  happiness  of  those  around 
him ;  and  wlio  is  strong  in  the  advocacy  and  support  of 
the  common  and  public  good ;  not  only  because  it  in- 
volves his  own  personal  interest,  but  the  interest  and  hap- 
piness of  all  those  who  are  linked  arm  in  arm  with  him- 
self by  the  beauty  and  sacredness  of  domestic  ties. 

6  364,   Of  the  moral  character  of  the  domestic  affections,  and  of  the 
benevolent  affections  generally. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  mquiries  in  connexion  with 
the  domestic  affections,  and  the  benevolent  affections  gen- 
erally, and  one,  too,  on  which  there  has  been  a  great  di- 
versity of  opinion,  is,  whe'ther  these  affections  possess  a 
moral  character,  and  what  that  character  is.  The  more 
common  opinion  seems  to  have  been,  that  all  affections 
which  are  truly  benevolent  are  necessarily,  and  from  the 
mere  fact  of  their  being  benevolent,  morally  good  or 
virtuous.  Nor  is  it  perhaps  surprising,  that  this  opinion 
should  be  so  often  entertained.  Certainly,  as  compared 
77ith  the  other  active  principles,  coming  under  the  gen- 
£ral  head  of  the  Natural  or  Pathematic  sensibilities,  they 
hold  the  highest  rank ;  and  we  frequently  apply  epithets 
to  them  which  indicate  our  belief  of  their  comparative 
pre-eminence.  We  speak  of  them,  not  only  as  innocent 
and  useful,  but  as  interesting,  amiable,  and  lovely ;  and 
from  time  to  time  apply  other  epithets,  which  equally 
show  the  favouiable  place  which  they  occupy  in  our  re* 


.Vi2,  TKK    BENEVJLENT    AfTECT  ONS 

t(ard.  All  this  we  allow;  but  still  they  are  noi  netessb 
••ily,  aiid  in  consequence  of  their  cwn  iiuture  simpij 
morally  good 

The  correct  view  on  this  subject  we  aj)prel,end  to  tu 
this;  (the  same  that  has  been  taken  of  other  principles, 
that  are  analogous  in  their  nature  and  operation.)  So 
far  as  the  benevolent  affections  are  constitutional  or  in- 
stinctive in  their  action,  they  are  indifferent  as  to  theii 
moral  character,  being  neither  morally  good  nor  evil.  So 
far  as  they  have  a  voluntary  action,  they  will  be  eithei 
the  one  or  the  other,  according  to  the  circumstances  of 
the  case.  When,  for  instance,  the  mother  hears  the  sud- 
den and  unexpected  scream  of  her  child  in  another  room, 
and  impetuously  rushes  to  its  relief,  we  allow  the  action 
to  be  vMturally  good,  and  exceedingly  interesting  and 
lovely ;  but  we  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  predicate  virtue  of 
it,  and  to  pronounce  it  raorally  good,  because  it  is  obvi 
ously  constitutional  or  instinctive.  If  the  act,  done  un- 
der such  circumstances,  be  necessarily  virtuous,  then  it 
clearly  follows  that  virtue  may  be  predicated  of  sheep 
cows,  and  other  brute  animals,  who  exhibit,  under  like 
circumstances,  the  same  instinctive  attachment  to  then 
offspring.  So  far,  therefore,  as  the  benevolent  affections 
are  instinctive  in  their  operation,  they  are  to  be  regarded, 
however  interesting  and  amiable  they  may  appear,  as 
neilher  morally  good  nor  evil. , 

6  365.  Of  ihe  moral  character  of  the  voluntary  exercises  of  the  bencvN 
lent  affections. 

But  so  far  as  the  benevolent  affections  are  voluntary  . 
in  other  words,  so  far  as  they  exist  in  view  of  motive!,' 
voluntarily  and  deliberately  brought  before  the  mind, 
they  may  be,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  voluntary  ci- 
fort,  either  virtuous  or  vicious.  Take,  as  an  illustrationj 
another  instance  of  the  operations  of  the  maternal  affec- 
tion. The  basis  of  this  affection  is  unquestionably  pure 
instinct.  But  it  has,  in  addition  to  this,  a  voluntary  opei 
ation ;  and  this  accessory  opnration,  it  is  to  be  presumed, 
is  in  the  majority  of  cases  virtuous.  Nevertheless,  when 
ever  this  amiable  and  ennobling  affection  becomes  inor« 
liina'.ely   strong,  when   under  its   irfluence   ihe  motiua 


THE    BENEVOLENT    AFJECTIONS  2h>?. 

,«aves  {he  child  to  vicious  courses,  against  the  rtmoii- 
fetrances  of  the  sentiment  of  duty,  its  exercise  evidently 
becomes  vicious. — On  the  other  hand,  if  the  mother,  per- 
haps in  consequence  of  the  improper  conduct  of  the  chik' 
oj  a  perplexing  inability  to  meet  its  numerous  wants,  o. 
for  some  other  reason,  finds  its  affection  falling  helow  the 
slandard  which  is  requisite  in  order  to  fulfil  the  intentions 
of  nature,  and  in  this  state  of  things  restores  and  invigo- 
rates its  exercise  by  a  careful  and  serious  consideration  of 
ill  the  responsibilities  involved  in  the  maternal  relation,  H. 
!s  equally  clear  that  its  exercise  at  once  assumes  the  op- 
posite character,  not  merely  of  amiableness,  but  of  virtue 

1^  3GG.   Of  the  coaxTJxion  between  benevoIer.ee  and  rectitude 

We  may  add  to  what  has  now^  been  remarked,  thai 
the  highest  and  most  ennobling  form  of  benevolence  ex- 
ists in  connexion  with  strict  justice.  Perfect  justice  is,  by 
the  constitution  of  things,  indissolubly  conjoined  with  the 
general  and  the  highest  good.  All  ibrms  and  degrees  of 
benevolence,  which  are  at  variance,  whether  more  or  less, 
with  perfect  rectitude,  although  they  are  aiming  at  good 
or  happiness,  are  nevertheless  seeking  something  less  than 
the  gieatest  possible  happiness.  Even  benevolence,  theie- 
fore,  is,  and  ought  to  be,  subjected  to  some  regulating 
power.  Whenever  we  distinctly  perceive  that  its  present 
indulgence  in  any  given  case  wall  tend,  whatever  may  be 
its  immediate  bearing,  to  ultimate  unhappiness  and  misery, 
we  are  sacredly  bound  by  the  higher  considerations  of 
duty  to  repress  it.  And  there  is  as  much  virtue  in  re- 
pressing its  action  at  such  times  as  there  v.-ould  be  at 
other  times  in  stimulating  it. 

One  of  the  most  benevolent  men  of  whom  history 
gives  us  any  account  v,'as  Bartholomew^  Las  Casas,  bish- 
op of  Chiapa.  In  1502  he  accompanied  Ovando  to 
Kispaniola,  who  had  been  commissioned  and  sent  out 
as  the  Spanish  governor  to  that  island.  He  there  w^t- 
nesed,  with  all  the  pain  of  a  naturally  benevolent  heart, 
the  cruel  treatment  which  was  experienced  by  the  native 
inhabitants  ;  the  deprivation  of  their  personal  rights,  the 
seizure  of  their  lands,  their  severe  toil,  and  inexorable 
punishment.     He  was  deeply  affected, •    and  from  thai 


6b4  THE    BENEVOLENT   AFFECTIONS. 

ame  devoted  the  whole  of  his  subsequent  life,  a  perio:; 
of  more  than  sixty  years,  to  exertions  ia  their  behall 
Uruier  tlie  impulse  of  a  most  unquestionable  benevolencej 
tliis  good  man  lecoramended  to  Cardinal  Xin?enes  whc 
was  at  that  time  at  the  head  of  Spanish  affairs,  the  intro- 
duction of  Negro  slaves  into  the  West  India  Islands,  tv" 
;;ae  of  the  best  methods  of  relief  to  the  native  inhabitanti 
We  introduce  this  statement  for  the  purpose  of  illus- 
.•ating  our  subject.  The  measures  of  Las  Casas,  which 
'ended  to  introduce  enslaved  Africans  into  the  Spanisl) 
islands,  were  the  results,  beyond  all  question,  of  a  hol^ 
and  exalted  benevolence.  But  if  he  could  have  foreseen 
the  treatment  of  the  Negroes,  still  more  dreadful  than 
that  to  which  the  native  inhabitants  were  subjected ;  if 
he  could  have  beheld  in  anticipation  the  desolations 
which  have  spread  over  Africa  in  consequence  of  the 
Slave  Trade,  it  would  have  been  his  duty,  whatever  good 
might  have  immediately  resulted  to  the  Indians,  in  whose 
behalf  he  w^as  so  deeply  interested,  to  have  checked  and 
controlled  his  benevolent  feelings,  and  to  have  endured 
the  present  rather  than  have  been  accessory  to  the  future 
evil.  The  indulgence  of  his  benevolence  to  the  native 
nihabitants,  under  such  circumstances  and  in  such  a  form, 
(however  amiable  and  interesting  benevolence,  in  itself 
considered,  undoubtedly  is  in  all  cases  whatever,)  would 
have  been  a  violation  of  duty,  and  consequently  a  sin  — 
So  false  and  pernicious  is.  that  system  which  ascribes  tc 
benevolence  in  its  own  nature,  and  independently  of  its 
telations  to  the  law  of  rectitude,  the  character  of  virtue 

§  367.   Of  humanity,  or  the  love  of  the  hiiman  race. 

/Another  of  the  implanted  affections  is  humanity,  or  th«- 
love  of  the  human  race. — On  this  subject  thej-e  are  only 
ihrec  suppositions  to  be  made,  viz.,  that  man  is  by  nature 
iidifferent  to  the  w^elfare  of  his  fellow-man,  or  that  he 
-jaturally  regards  him  with  feelings  of  hostility,  or  that 
;e  has  a  degree  of  interest  in  his  welfare  and  loves  him 
That  man  is  by  nature  entirely  indifferent  to  the  w^elfare 
af  his  fellow-beings,  is  a  proposition  which  will  not  be 
dkely  to  m.eet  with  many  supporters  ;  still  less  the  propO' 
sition,  although  some  have  been  found  to  advorate  it, 


THE    BEiYEVOLENT   AFFECTIONS.  385 

that  ne  is  by  nature  and  instinctively  the  enemy  of  man 
But,  in  endeavouring  to  support  the  third  proposition,  tha 
he  has  naturally  a  degree  of  interest  in,  and  a  desire  foi 
the  welfare  of  the  members  of  the  human  race  generally 
expressed  by  Ihe  terms  huivl\xity  or  i'Hilanthuopy,  we 
ivish  it  to  be  understood  that  we  do  not,  as  a  general  thing, 
zlaim  for  the  exercise  of  this  affection  any  marked  inten- 
dty.  It  is  too  evident  that  it  possesses  but  little  strength 
compared  with  what  it  should ;  and  that  it  falls  far  short 
of  the  Scriptural  requisition,  which  exacts  the  same  love 
kr  our  neighbour  as  for  ourselves.  The  fact  undoubtedly 
is,  that  the  principle  is  impeded  in  its  action  and  dimin- 
ished in  its  results  by  the  inordinate  exercise  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  SELF-LOVE,  which  is  constantly  recalling  our  at- 
tention within  the  restricted  circle  of  our  personal  int-er 
ests.  But  the  affection  of  hujianity,  although  thus  re 
stricted  in  its  action,  and  depressed  far  below  the  stand 
ard  which  its  great  Author  justly  claims  for  it.  has  never 
theless  an  existence. 

This  is  shown,  in  the  first  place,  from  the  great  interest 
which  is  always  taken,  and  by  all  classes  of  persons,  in 
anything  which  relates  to  human  nature,  to  man  consid- 
ered as  a  human  being,  irrespective,  in  a  great  degree,  r^ 
his  country  and  of  the  period  of  his  existence.  There  are 
numerous  other  subjects  of  inquiry ;  and  we  imdoubtedly 
feel  a  considerable  degree  of  interest  in  whatever  reaches 
us  from  different  quarters  of  the  earth  in  respect  to  their 
structm-e,  climate,  and  resources.  But  it  is  chiefly  when 
man  is  mentioned  that  the  heart  grows  warm.  We  listen 
to  the  stoiy  of  his  situation  and  fortunes,  even  for  the  first 
time,  as  of  one  in  whom  flows  the  same  fountain  of  hfe. 
When  we  touch  a  string  here,  we  find  a  vibration  in  every 
human  heart.  The  mere  aspect  of  man,  the  mere  sound 
of  the  human  voice,  unaided  by  a  multitude  of  association? 
which  often  enhance  their  effect,  awakens  emotions  o^ 
regard  and  interest.  And  seldom  can  we  find  a  persoi' 
'  so  immersed  in  his  own  selfishness  as  boldly  and  openly 
«:o  avow,  that  the  pursuit  of  his  personal  interests,  with 
whatever  good  reasons  it  may  in  itself  seera  to  be  justi- 
fied, is  a  valid  and  honourable  excuse  ff  r  lunulling  th« 
Kk 


38G  M.t:    BKNEVOLEIVT    AFFECTIONS. 

','laims  of  h-oinanity,  and  sundering  the  tie  of  universal 
brotherhood. 

<i  368.    tM.nl. er  prjofs  in  support  of  the  doctrine  of  an  irnale  huinunitv, 
or  love  for  tlie  human  race. 

In  the  secoii  1  place,  the  tcsthr.ony  of  individuals  who 
have  been  so  situated  as  to  put  the  natural  sentiments  of 
mankind  in  this  respect  to  a  fair  trail,  is  favourable  to 
the  doctrine  of  the  natural  existence  of  humane  or  philan. 
thropic  feelings.  We  refer  here,  in  particular,  to  the 
statements  of  travellers,  who,  either  by  design  or  by  acci- 
dent, have  been  placed,  for  a  considerable  time,  among 
Savage  tribes;  without  meaning,  however,  to  exclude 
those  who,  in  civilized  lands,  have  been  favourably  situ- 
ated for  ascertaining  the  tendencies  of  the  human  heart. 
Kotzebue,  for  instance,  who  w^as  suddenly  seized  and  sent 
an  exile  into  Siberia,  where  he  remained  some  time,  was 
thrown  into  the  company  of  various  classes  of  persons 
under  such  circumstances  that  he  could  hardly  fail  to  form 
a  correct  judgment  in  the  matter  under  consideration. 
The  Narrative  of  his  Exile,  which  is  exceedingly  interest- 
ing, discovers  the  human  mind,  considered  as  naturally 
disposed  to  the  misery  or  happiness  of  the  human  race, 
under  a  decidedly  favourable  aspect.  In  the  recollection 
»)f  the  good  and  the  evil  he  had  experienced,  and  in  view 
of  the  numerous  facts  recorded  in  his  book,  he  exclaims 
"  How  few  hard-hearted  and  insensible  beings  are  to  be 
met  with  in  my  Narrative !  My  misfortunes  have  con- 
firmed me  in  the  opinion,  that  man  may  put  confidence  iv 
his  fellow-man." 

Almost  all  the  travellers  into  the  interior  of  Africa. 
V'aillant,  Park,  Sparman,  Clapperton,  Denham,  the  Lan- 
ilers,  and  others,  although  they  travelled  among  tribes  ir. 
the  highest  degree  ignorant  and  degraded,  constantly 
speak  of  the  kindness  they  experienced. — On  a  certain 
or^asion,  Park,  for  reasons  connected  with  the  circum 
stance  of  his  being  an  entire  stranger  in  the  country,  was 
obliged  to  remain  all  day  without  food.  About  sunset, 
as  he  was  turning  his  horse  loose  to  graze,  and  had  be- 
fore him  the  prospect  of  spending  the  night  in  solitude 
and  hunger,  a  woman  ha])pened  to  pass  near  him  as  iite 


THE    BENEV':)LENT    AFFECt'IONS.  38. 

was  ret  Liming  from  her  employment  in  the  lields.  As 
tonished  at  seeing  a  white  man,  she  stopped  to  gaze  upor 
him;  and,  noticing  his  looks  of  dejection  and  sorrow, 
kindly  inquired  from  \vhat  cause  they  proceeded.  When 
Park 'had  explained  his  dostiti'te  situation,  the  woman 
immediately  took  up  his  saddle  and  bridle,  and  desired 
him  to  follow  her  to  her  home.  There,  after  having 
litrhted  a  lamp,  she  presented  him  with  some  broiled  fish, 
spread  a  mat  for  him  to  lie  upon,  and  gave  him  permis- 
sion  to  remain  in  her  humble  dwelling  tdl  the  morning 
Park  informs  ur;,  that,  during  the  chief  part  of  the  night, 
the  woman  and  her  female  companions  were  occupied 
with  spinning ;  and  that  they  beguiled  their  labour  with 
a  variety  of  songs;  one  of  which  had  reference  to  his 
own  situation.  The  air  was  sweet  and  plaintive,  and  the 
words  were  literally  as  follows.  "  The  winds  roared,  and 
the  rains  fell.  The  poor  white  man,  faint  and  weary, 
came  and  sat  under  our  tree.  He  has  no  mother  to  bring 
him  milk,  no  wife  to  grind  him  corn.  Let  us  pity  the 
white  man;  no  mother  has  he  to  bring  him  milk,  no 
wife  to  grind  him  corn." 

0  369.   Proofs  of  a  humane  or  philanthropic  principle  from  (.he  exiitcin.e 
of  benevolent  institutions. 

It  will  be  noticed,  we  do  not  assert  that  the  principle 
of  love  to  our  fellow-men,  considered  snnply  as  members 
of  the  human  race,  is  as  strong  in  the  human  mind  as  it 
should  be.  All  we  propose  to  assert  and  maintain  is, 
that  it  actually  has  an  existence  there  to  some  extent. 
And,  among  other  proofs,  we  might,  in  the  third  place, 
properly  refer  to  those  numerous  benevolent  institutions. 
such  as  hospitals,  infirmaries,  asylums,  houses  of  refuge 
charity  schools,  and  charitable  societies  of  every  descrip- 
tion, which  exist  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  It  is  true  that 
institutions  of  this  kind  flourish  most,  and  it  is  a  circum 
stance  exceedingly  honourable  to  the  tendency  of  thu 
Christian  religion,  in  Christiaiv  countries.  But  the  fact 
undoubtedly  is,  that,  on  suitable  inquiry',  we  may  find 
evidences  in  a  diminished  degree,  of  benevoleat  efforts, 
and  traces  of  benevolent  institutions,  such  as  have  been 
now  referred  to,  in  lands  not  thus  highly  favoured.     In 


?S8  iHE  bem:vulen't  affections 

the  recently-published  life  of  the  Missionary  S'A^aitz,  ^ch 
3d ,)  we  lind  the  following  incidental  remark,  whicli 
throws  light  upon  the  5tate  of  things  in  India.  Speakins 
of  the  territory  of  Tanjore,  the  writer  says,  "  Its  capital 
bordering  on  the  Delta  of  the  Coleroon  and  the  Cavary 
lis  wealthy  and  splendid,  adorned  with  a  pagoda,  which 
eclipses  in  magnificence  all  other  structures  in  the  South 
of  India ;  and  exceeding,  in  the  number  of  its  sacred 
t/uildings  and  charitable  institutions^  all  the  neighbouring 
•provinces." 

Among  other  facts  kindred  with  those  which  have  now 
Dcen  alluded  to,  it  is  w^ell  known,  that  when  any  portion 
of  the  human  race  have  been  subjected  by  fire,  war,  fam- 
ine, the  pestilence,  or  some  convulsion  of  nature,  to  great 
affliction,  an  interest  is  felt,  and  efforts  are  made  in  their 
behalf  in  other  countries.  As  an  illustration  of  what  we 
mean,  it  will  suffice  to  remark,  that  wher>,  some  yeais 
since,  the  Greek  nation,  and,  still  more  recently,  tlie  in- 
habitants of  the  Cape  de  Verd  Islands,  were  in  a  state  of 
extreme  want,  although  they  were  a  remote  people,  and 
scarcely  known  among  us,  a  number  of  vessels,  in  boti] 
cases,  were  sent  from  this  country  to  their  assistance, 
loaded  with  provisions  at  the  expense  of  private  individ- 
uals. Many  facts  of  this  kind  might  be  mentioned,  which 
are  obviously  inconsistent  with  the  idea  that  man  is  Indif 
ferent  to  the  welfare  of  his  fellow-man,  much  more  thai 
mt^n  are  naturally  hostile  to  each  other. 

ij  370.  Olher  remarks  in  proof  of  the  same  doctrine. 

In  the  fourth  place,  the  principle  of  humanity  is  requi- 
site, in  order  to  render  human  nat'ire  at  all  consistent 
with  itself. — We  have,  for  instance,  implanted  within  lis 
the  desire  of  Esteem,  which  is  universal  in  its  operation 
But  why  should  we  be  so  constituted  as  naturally  to  de- 
sire the  esteem  of  those  whom,  at  the  same  time,  we  nat- 
■ivally  hate  or  are  indifferent  to  ?  There  is  no  question 
(hat  Sociality,  or  the  desire  of  society,  is  connatural  to  the 
human  mind ;  but  is  it  presumable  that  men  are  so  crea- 
ted as  earnestly  to  covet  the  society  of  others,  when,  al 
the  same  time,  those  whose  company  they  seek  are,  bj 
lb;,   vonstitution  of  nature,  the  objects  of  enlive  indiffer- 


THE    BENEVOLENT    AFFECTIONS  ,i?5 

ence  or  of  decided  aversion  ?  We  have  within  us,  us  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  notice  hereafter,  the  distinct  prin- 
ciple of  Pity  or  Sympathy,  which  prompts  us  both  to  pre- 
vent suffering-  and  to  relieve  it  when  it  exists ;  a  principle 
which  no  one  supposes  is  designed  by  nature  to  be  limit- 
ed in  \l^  operation  to  the  immediate  circle  of  our  relatives 
and  friends,  but  which  has  men  as  such  for  its  object^  and 
I  he  wide  world  lor  the  field  of  its  exercise.  But  on  what 
grounds  of  wisdom  or  consistency  is  it  possible  that  na- 
ture should  prompt  men  to  relieve  or  prevent  the  i.uffer- 
ings  of  others,  whom  she  also  imperatively  requires  us  tc 
regard  with  sentiments  of  hostility,  or,  at  least,  wi  .h  un- 
feeling coldness  1  Furthermore,  our  Conscience  rt;quires 
us  to  treat  our  fellow-men,  in  all  ordinary  cases,  with 
kindness,  and  we  experience  an  internal  condemnation 
when  v/e  do  not  do  it ;  which  would  at  least  not  be  the 
case  if  we  were  the  subjects  of  a  natural  hostility  to  them. 
— It  is  on  such  grounds  we  assert  that  human  nature,  in 
order  to  be  consistent  with  itself,  requires  a  principle  of 
good-will  or  love  to  man,  considered  simply  as  possessing; 
a  kindred  origin  and  nature. 

^  371.   Of  patriotism  or  love  of  country. 

One  of  the  most  important  modifications  of  that  more 
general  and  extensive  form  of  good-will  or  benevolence 
which  extends  to  all  mankind,  is  patriotisv,,  or  love  of 
country.     It  seems  to  be  the  intention  of  nature,  when 
we  consider  the  diversities  of  customs  and  languages  that 
exist,  and  particularly  that,  in  many  cases,  countries  are 
distinctly  separatcti  from  each  other,  by  large  rivers,  lakes, 
gulfs,  mountains,  and  seas,  that  mankind,  instead  of  be- 
ing under  one  government,  shall  exist  in  separate  and  dis- 
tinct communities  or  nations,  each  having  its  own  institu 
tions  and  civil  polity.     And  such,  at  any  rate,  is  the  fact 
We  are  not  only  members  of  mankind  aiid  citizens  of  tht 
world,  (a  relation  which  ought  to  be  more  distinctly  and 
fully  recognised  than  it  ever  has  been,)  but  are  mem- 
bers, and,  as  such,  have  appropriate  duties  to  fulfl,  of  oui 
own  particular  commimity.     And  it  is  thus  that  a  founda 
tion  is  laid  for  that  particular  state  of  mind  which  we  d*- 
nominate  Pitriotism. 


390  THE  BENEVOLENT  AFIECTION^. 

Tliis  affection  we  regard  as  secondary  ralhei  than  origi- 
nal It  is  that  love  wliich  we  exercise,  and  ought  to  ex- 
ercise, towards  the  members  of  our  species  consid(!red  aa 
su3h,  heightened  by  the  consideration  that  those  towards 
whom  it  is  put  forth  are  sprung  from  the  same  race,  in- 
aabit  the  same  territory,  are  under  the  same  constitutions 
">f  government,  speak  the  same  language,  and  have  the 
:&me  interests.  So  that  the  love  of  our  race,  as  it  is  mod- 
ified in  the  form  of  love  of  our  country,  while  it  is  more 
restricted,  becomes  proportionally  more  intense.  And,  in 
point  of  fact,  it  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  predominant 
and  ruling  principles  which  regulate  the  conduct  of  men. 

Nevertheless,  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  there  is  neces- 
sarily any  conflict  between  these  two  principles.  For,  in 
doing  good  to  our  country  we  are  doing  good  to  mankind , 
and  to  that  particular  portion  of  mankind  which  Provi.- 
dence,  by  placing  them  more  immediately  within  the  scope 
of  our  observation  and  effort,  seems  to  have  assigned  as 
the  especial  field  of  our  beneficence.  At  the  same  time  it 
cannot  be  denied,  that  patriotism,  in  its  irregular  and  un- 
restrained exercise,  does  sometimes,  and  but  too  frequent- 
ly, interfere  with  Philanthropy,  or  the  love  of  man.  The 
passion  of  patriotism,  as  a  general  thing,  has  become  dis- 
proportionate in  degree,  as  compared  with  the  love  of 
the  human  race.  The  interests  of  our  country,  by  being 
continually  brooded  over,  are  exaggerated  to  our  percep- 
tion ;  while  those  of  mankind  are  too  much  lost  sight  of. 
There  is  too  much  ground  for  the  feeling  lamentation  of 
Ccwpcr : 

"  Lands  intersected  by  a  narrow  frith 
Abhor  each  other.     Mountains  interposed 
Make  enemies  of  nations,  who  had  else, 
Like  kindred  drops,  been  mingled  into  one." 

<5  372.   Of  the  affection  of  friendship. 

Another  interesting  modification  of  that  feeling  ol 
good-Avill  or  love,  which,  as  men,  we  naturally  bear  to  oui 
fellow-men,  is  denominated  Friendship.  It  is  a  passicD 
50  distinctly  marked,  that  it  well  deserves  a  separate  nO' 
tice,  although  there  are  no  good  grounds  for  regarding 
it,  considered  as  a  distinct  affection,  as  connatural.  Tht 
..ove  which  we  bear  to  our  species  is  so  diffused,  that  h 


THE    Bfi.N£VOr,ENT    AFFECTIONS.  39 1 

cauubt  be  .-aid,  as  a  general  thing,  to  possess  a  high  de- 
gree ol'  strength.  As  it  withdraws  from  the  vast  circuin- 
ference  of  the  human  race,  and  contracts  its  exercise 
within  tlie  narrow  circle  of  our  country,  it  acquires  in- 
creased en(!rgy.  Retreating  within  the  still  more  restrict- 
ed  limits  which  imbody  those  with  whom  we  are  most 
accustomed  to  associate,  it  assumes  a  new  modification, 
being  not  only  characterized  by  greater  strength,  but  a 
source  of  greater  pleasure.  And  this,  in  distinction  from 
Humanity  or  Philanthropy,  which  extends  to  all  mankind. 
as  well  as  in  distinction  from  Patriotism,  which  merely 
spreads  itcelf  over  the  extent  of  our  country,  we  call 

FRIENDSHIP. 

This  atfection,  like  the  other  benevolent  affection.- 
which  have  been  mentioned,  includes  in  itself  an  emo 
tion  of  pleasure,  combined  with  the  desire  of  good  to  iti? 
object.  It  exists,  or  may  be  supposed  to  exist,  in  respect 
to  those  persons  who  are  not  only  so  situated  as  to  be  the 
subjects  of  our  intimacy,  but  possess  such  qualities  as  to  be 
deserving  of  our  esteem.  It  is,  perhaps,  a  common  remark, 
in  connexion  with  this  particular  view  of  the  subject,  that 
a  similarity  of  character  is  requisite  as  the  basis  of  this  af- 
fection. This,  to  some  extent,  is  true ;  but  the  remark 
is  not  to  be  received  without  some  limitation.  It  is  cer- 
tainly the  case,  that  friendship  is  consistent  with  diversi- 
ties of  intellect.  Persons  wdio  differ  much  in  the  quick- 
ness and  amplitude  of  intellectual  action,  may  neverthe- 
less entertain  for  each  other  a  sincere  friendship.  But  it 
must  be  admitted,  it  does  not  readily  appear  how  sucli 
friendship  can  exist  in  the  case  of  persons  who  differ  es- 
sentially in  moral  character.  The  fact  that  one  of  the 
parties  is  virtuous,  the  other  vicious ;  that  one  of  them 
attaches  his  highest  veneration  and  esteem  to  that  recti- 
fude  which  the  other  regards  as  of  no  value,  can  hard' 
\y  fail  to  interpose  between  them,  as  far  as  the  reciprocal 
<jon  of  friendship  is  concerned,  an  insuperable  barrier 

()  373.  Of  the  affection  of  pity  or  sympathy. 

It  'S  not  unfrequently  the  case  that  we  find  around  us 
objcrts  of  suffering  ;  those  who,  from  want,  or  disease,  or 
«<)nie  f)ihev  cause,  are  justly  entitled  to  the  aid  of  their 


392  THE    BENEVOLENT    AFFECmrre. 

teliow-mcn.  In  order  to  meet  this  state  of  things,  P/ovi- 
dence  has  kindly  implanted  within  us  the  principle  oi 
Pity,  which  prompts  us,  by  an  instinctive  and  powerful 
impulse,  to  render  the  aid  which  is  so  frequently  needed. 
This  benevolent  affection  differs  from  others,  in  being 
based  upon  a  painful  instead  of  a  pleasant  emotion 
The  occasion  of  the  exercise  of  the  affection  of  Pity  or 
S}Tnpathy  is  some  case  of  suffering.  On  contemplating 
the  scene  of  suffering,  it  is  the  result,  in  all  ordinary  ca- 
ses, that  we  experience  a  painful  emotion,  which  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  desire  to  relieve  the  suffering  object. 

This  principle  is  practically  a  veiy  important  one.  1 
IS  a  sentiment  of  Bishop  Butler,  expressed  in  connexioi 
with  this  very  subject,  that  the  misery  of  men  is  mucl 
more  directly,  and  to  a  much  greater  extent,  under  th<' 
power  of  others  than  their  happiness.  The  sources  cK" 
happiness,  both  mental  and  bodily,  are  to  a  great  exteni 
in  ourselves;  and  although  they  are  susceptible  of  in- 
crease through  the  instrumentality  of  the  kind  offices  of 
others,  yet  not  ordinarily  in  a  very  great  degree.  But  it 
is  in  the  power  of  any  individual,  who  is  thus  evilly  dis- 
posed, to  plunge  others,  not  one  or  two  merel} .  but  even 
'.vhole  neighbourhoods,  into  misery.  The  priKci})Ie  of 
Pity,  which  is  called  forth  not  only  in  the  actual  but  also 
m  the  anticipated  prospect  of  suffering,  aids,  in  connex- 
ion with  other  causes,  in  keeping  under  proper  restraint 
any  tendency  to  a  wrong  exercise  of  this  important  pow- 
er. It  not  only  exercises  the  important  office  of  prevent- 
ing suffering,  by  operating,  as  it  were,  in  anticipation,  but 
it  visits,  watches  over,  and  relieves  it  when  it  has  actual- 
ly occurred.  And  in  this  last  point  of  vievV  particularly, 
Es  well  as  in  the  other,  it  commends  itself  to  our  notice 
SB'.]  admiration  as  a  practical  principle  eminently  suited 
to  the  condition  and  wants  of  man. 

ij  374.  Of  the  moral  character  of  pity. 

It  is  an  opinion  sometimes  expressed,  that  an  affection 
1^  amiable,  and  generally  so  useful  as  that  of  Pit)"",  can- 
not, be  othei'wise  than  virtuous      It  is  not  wonderful,  when 
we  take  into  \ae\v  the  interesting  character  of  the  affec- 
on.  tliat  such  an  opinion  should  be  entertained  ;  but  Wf 


THE    BENEVOLENT   AFFECTIONS. 


M):■^ 


t^amiot  regard  it  as  strictly  correct.  It  is  well  understood, 
60  much  so  as  not  to  be  considered  a  matter  of  doubt,  thai 
this  affection  operates  in  the  first  instance  instinctively 
And  it  is  easy  to  see  the  intention  of  nature  in  instituting 
this  form  of  "^its  action.  In  a  multitude  of  cases  where 
we  can  relieve  the  sufferings  of  our  fellow-men,  our  as- 
sistance would  come  too  late  if  we  acted  on  the  hesita- 
•:iug  ?.nd  cautious  suggestions  of  reason.  An  instinctive 
iction,  therefore,  is  necessary.  And,  so  far  as  the  action 
of  the  principle  is  of  this  kind,  it  must  be  obvious  thai 
it  is  neither  virtuous  nor  vicious. 

But  there  is  another  view  of  this  subject.  The  prin- 
ciple of  sympathy  may  be  checked  in  its  exercise  when 
it  is  too  intense,  or  increased  when  deficient,  under  the 
influences  of  a  deliberate  ana  >  cluntary  effort.  And,  un- 
der these  circumstances,  its  action  may  have  a  voluntary 
character,  being  right  or  WTong  according  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case.  It  is  right  when  it  is  subordinated 
to  the  requisitions  of  an  enlightened  conscience ;  but  oth- 
erwise it  is  wrong.  And  it  may  be  wrong  by  excess  as 
well  as  by  defect.  If,  for  instance,  we  happened  to  see  a 
person  severely  but  justly  pimished  under  the  authority 
of  law,  we  might  exercise  pity  in  his  behalf.  But  if,  un- 
der the  mere  impulse  of  pity,  we  should  be  led  to  attempt 
his  rescue,  in  violation  of  the  rights  and  interests  of  soci 
ety,  such  an  exercise  of  it  w^ould  be  wrong.  Again,  w^e 
can  hardly  fail  to  pity  the  wretchedness  of  the  emaciated 
beggar  who  asks  for  our  assistance ;  but  if  we  are  well 
persuaded  that  the  bestowment  of  alms  will  only  tend  to 
encourage  those  vicious  habits  which  have  led  to  this 
wretcliedness,  it  may  become  a  duty  both  to  check  oui 
sympathy  and  to  withhold  our  aid. 

At  the  sf-oe  time  we  do  not  deny,  that  w^e  may  very 
f  jstly  draw  inferences  in  favour  of  the  virtuousness  of 
that  man's  character  in  whom  this  interesting  passion  is 
predominant  And  we  say  this,  because,  although  sym- 
pathy does  not  necessarily  imply  virtuousness,  yet,  in  point 
of  fad,  it  is  seldom  the  case  that  they  are  at  variance 
with  each  other  They  generally  run  in  the  same  track 
acfine:  harmoniously  together. 


S^J4  THE    BENEVOLENT    AFFECTIONS 

C  375.  Of  the  affection  of  gratitude 

Another  distinct  modification  of  that  geneial  stale  of 
aie  mind  which  is  denominated  love,  is  the  implanted  oi 
connatural  affection  of  gratitude.  Although  this,  like 
the  other  benevolent  aflections,  includes  an  emotion  of 
pleasure  or  delight,  combined  with  a  desire  of  good,  or  a 
benevolent  feeling  towards  the  object  of  it,  it  neverthelebs 
lias  V.s  characteristics,  which  clearly  distinguish  it  from 
them.  We  never  give  the  name  of  gratitude,  for  in- 
stance, to  this  combination  of  pleasant  and  benevolent 
feeling,  except  it  arise  in  reference  to  some  benefit  or  ben- 
efits conferred.  Furthermore,  gratitude  involves,  as  the 
basis  or  occasion  of  its  origin,  not  only  the  mere  fact  of  a 
good  conferred,  but  of  a  designed  or  intentional  benefit, 
if  the  benefit  which  we  have  received  can  be  traced  to 
some  private  or  selfish  motive  on  the  part  of  the  person 
.Yom  whom  it  comes,  we  may  be  pleased,  as  we  probably 
ihall  be,  wath  the  good  that  has  accrued  to  us ;  but  shall 
cease,  from  the  moment  of  the  discovery  of  his  motive, 
to  entertain  any  gratitude  to  the  author  of  it.  Gratitude, 
therefore,  can  never  be  excited  within  us,  except  m  view 
of  what  is  in  fact,  or  is  supposed  to  be,  true,  unadultera- 
led  benevolence. 

Different  individuals  manifest  considerable  diversity  in 
llie  exercise  of  grateful  emotions.  There  are  some  per- 
sons who  exhibit,  in  the  reception  of  the  favours  conferred 
upon  them,  but  slight  visible  marks  of  grateful  regard ; 
others  are  incapable  of  such  a  passive  reception  of  bene- 
fits, and  are  strongly  affected  with  their  bestowal.  Thiis 
difference  is  probably  owing,  in  part,  to  original  diver- 
fities  of  constitution;  and  is  partly  to  be  .jsciibed  to 
JifFerftnt  vievsof  the  characters  and  duties  ol  msn,  OT  to 
vche"  adventitiius  circuiustaiice^' 


THE   BENEVOLENT    AFFECTIONS  39& 

.    cHAPiER  vn 

THE    BENEVOLENT    AJFECTIONS 
LOVE    TO    THE    SUPREME    BEING. 

^  376    Mar.  created  originally  with  the  principle  of  bve  to  Ki'.a. 

In  order  to  preserve  the  other  principles  of  human  na* 
mre  in  the  position  which  the  great  Author  of  that  na« 
tare  has  assigned  to  them,  and  to  render  their  action  jusl 
in  itself  and  harmonious  in  its  relations,  we  have  reason 
to  believe  that  there  was  originally  in  the  human  consti- 
tution a  principle  of  love  to  the  Supreme  Being.  Thi?, 
affection,  it  may  well  be  supposed,  was  entirely  analo- 
gous, both  in  its  nature  and  its  operations,  to  the  other 
Benevolent  Affections,  possessing,  like  them,  a  twofold 
action,  instinctive  and  voluntary.  It  differed,  howevefj 
greatly  in  the  degree  or  intensity  of  its  action ;  being 
rendered  to  its  appropriate  object,  as  might  be  expected 
from  the  unspeakably  high  and  holy  nature  of  that  ob- 
ject, with  all  the  energy  of  which  the  mind  was  capable. 
That  man  must  have  been  created  originally  with  such  a 
principle  of  love,  overruling  and  regulating  all  the  sub- 
ordinate principles,  we  think  must  be  evident,  in  the  first 
place,  from  the  considerations  furnished  by  Analogy. 

In  all  the  departments  of  the  mind,  so  far  as  it  has 
hitherto  passed  under  our  examination,  we  have  seen  ev- 
idences of  contrivance  and  wisdom ;  everything  has  its 
place,  adaptations,  and  uses ;  and  nothing,  so  far  as  we 
can  judge,  is  done  imperfectly.  If  it  were  necessary  in 
this  inquiry  to  put  out  of  view  the  Intellect,  so  wonder- 
ful in  its  adaptation  and  its  resources,  we  should  hardly 
fail  to  hnd,  in  the  distinct  departments  (<f  the  Sensibilities, 
ample  illustrations  and  proofs  of  this  remark.  The  In- 
stincts, which  naturally  arrest  our  attention  fii'st,  have  ob- 
viously their  appropriate  place  and  office ;  and  dthough 
Ihey  rank  lowest  in  the  enumeration  of  our  active  prin- 
ciples, are  yet  indispensable.     If  man  were  constituted 


i9(i  TiI2    BEXEVOLKSr    \FFECT10NS. 

physically  as  he  is  at  present,  and  yet  without  thi:  Appe- 
tites, the  next  liigher  class  of  the  principles  imolving  de- 
sire, there  would  obviously  be  a  want  of  adaptation  be* 
iween  his  numtal  and  physical  arrangements.  The  Pro- 
pensities also,  as  we  advance  still  upw^ard,  have  each  theii 
;Tphere  of  action,  their  specific  nature  and  uses ;  and  are 
tdapted  with  wonderful  skill  to  the  necessities  of  man, 
\]id  to  llie  relations  he  sustains.  The  same  remark,  and 
perhaps  in  a  stiU  higher  sense,  wdl  apply  to  the  Affec- 
tions — As  a  father,  a  man  has  a  natural  affection  for  his 
children,  that  he  may  thus  be  supported  in  the  d-ischarge 
of  the  arduous  duties  he  owes  to  them ;  as  a  child,  he  has 
naturally  an  affection  for  his  parents ;  and  as  man  simply, 
he  is  evidently  constituted  with  a  degree  of  love  for  his 
fellow-man. 

When  w'e  consider  the  relations  which  men  sustain,  stilt 
more  important  than  those  which  are  the  basis  of  th<= 
principles  which  have  been  mentioned,  are  we  not  just 
fied  in  saying,  on  the  ground  of  Analogy,  that  there  mue 
have  been  originally  in  the  human  constitution  a  princi 
pie  of  love  to  the  Supreme  Being  1  If  there  was  not 
originally  in  the  mental  constitution  such  a  principle  as 
love  to  God,  was  not  the  structure  of  the  mind  in  that  re- 
spect obviously  at  variance  with  what  the  Analogy  of  ih 
nature  in  other  respects  requires  ?  If,  from  the  urgent 
necessities  of  our  situation,  there  must  be  stiong  ties  of 
love,  binding  together  parents,  and  children,  and  brothers ; 
if  these  ties  must  reach  and  bind  with  some  degree  of 
strictness  all  the  members  of  the  human  family,  on  what 
principle  can  the  doctrine  be  sustained,  that  man  wa.* 
originally  created  without  an  implanted  love  to  that  Be- 
ing, who  is  infinitely  more  and  better  to  bio  than  ap 
earthly  brother  or  father  '^ 

i)  377.  That  man  was  originally  crcaled  with  a  principle  cl  lovt  lo 
God,  further  shown  from  the  Scriptures. 

In  the  second  place,  we  have  great  reason  to  belie  \c, 
tram  the  testimony  of  the  Scriptures,  that  man  was,  lU 
{tin  fii'st  instance,  created  with  th^*  distinct  and  operatir« 
principle  of  love  to  his  Creator.  At  the  creation,  it  is 
worthy  of  notice,  that  everything  which  came  fion  1h« 


LOVE    ro    IHE    SLTREME    BEINO.  397 

iiajid^  of  tlit)  great  Architect  was  •pronounced  to  Do  coot 
But  it'  nnn,  raised  from  nothingness  into  existence,  fur« 
nished  with  high  powers  of  thought  and  action,  and  sup- 
ported  by  the  daily  gifts  of  the  divine  bounty,  was  ere. 
ated  without  a  principle  of  love  to  his  Maker,  (analo- 
gous to  the  other  implanted  affections,  only  that  it  exist- 
ed in  an  exceedingly  higher  degree,  corresponding  to  the 
grsatness  of  the  object,)  we  cannot  deny  that  we  are  ut- 
terly unable  to  perceive  in  such  a  result  the  basis  of  so 
marked  a  commendation,  as  fai  as  the  parents  of  the 
human  race  were  concerned.  It  would  seem,  on  the 
contrary,  that  such  a  work,  framed  with  such  a  disregard 
of  the  most  important  relations,  could  not  be  pronounced 
good,  even  in  the  estimate  of  human  reason,  much  less  in 
diat  of  a  reason  infinitely  comprehensive  and  divine 

But,  furthermore,  man  is  expressly  said  to  have  bee/j 
created  in_  the  image  of  his  Maker.  That  is  to  say,  iii 
the  great  outlines  of  his  mental  constitution,  he  was,  in 
the  first  instance,  a  copy,  (on  a  very  limited  scale,  it  is 
true,)  but  still  a  copy,  in  fact,  of  the  Divine  Mind.  But 
we  must  suppose  that  God,  both  in  his  administration  of 
•ustice  and  benevolence,  is  regulated  by  a  wise  and  full 
consideration  of  the  relations  of  things.  He  always 
loves  from  the  very  perfection  of  his  nature,  what  is 
worthy  to  be  loved ;  and  if  he  created  man  in  his  own 
image,  (that  is  to  say,  with  affections  and  moral  senti- 
ments corresponding  to  the  nature  and  relations  of  things,) 
Be  must  have  created  him  with  a  disposition  to  love  him- 
self. We  are  not  at  liberty  to  suppose  that  he  could 
by  possibility  create  a  being  who  should  either  hate  oi 
be  indifferent  towards  another  being,  whom  he  knew  nol 
only  to  be  infinitely  wise  and  good,  but  to  sustain  the  re- 
lation of  a  Creator,  preserver,  and  benefactor.  A  being 
thus  created,  so  utterly  wanting  in  those  afTections  which 
ire  required  by  the  immutable  relations  of  things,  could 
liardly  be  said,  with  any  degree  of  truth,  to  be  created  w 
Ihe  image  of  God.  We  mfer,  therefore,  from  the  state- 
ment of  mans  being  created  in  the  Divine  image,  thai 
he  was  '.;reated  with  a  principle  of  love  to  his  Maker 
And  the  same  reason  leads  us  to  believe,  that  the  piuioi- 
pie  was  paramount  to  every  othe';  corresponding,  as  fai 


398  TIIE    BENE  VIOLENT    AFFECT;<7x>}S. 

as  the  liiiiUed  powers  of  man  would  permit,  to  tlie  mfi- 
iiiteiy  exalted  niture  of  its  object.  And,  in  addition  to 
tliis,  the  analogy  of  ihc  other  implanted  principles  points 
to  the  conclusion,  that,  like  them,  it  possesses  a  twofold 
action,  instinctive  and  voluntary. 

i  378.  Furtlier  proof  that  man  was  thus  created. 

Again,  many  of  those  passages  of  Scripture  which  are 
addressed  to  man  in  his  present  fallen  state,  appear  to 
contemplate  the  restoration  j>f  this  great  principle.  When 
the  Saviour,  on  a  certain  occasion,  was  asked,  in  respect 
to  the  commandments,  which  of  them  was  to  be  regarded 
as  having  the  first  or  leading  place,  his  answer  was : 
"  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart, 
and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind.  This  is  the 
first  and  great  coraniandment."  Matt,  xxii.,  37,  38 
This  language  implies,  to  say  the  least,  the  possibility  of 
the  existence  of  this  principle ;  and  particularly,  that  in 
a  sinless  or  perfect  state  of  the  human  race,  it  is  indispen- 
sable.— Finally,  that  renovation  of  our  nature,  which  n 
so  frequently  spoken  of  in  the  New  Testament  under  the 
name  of  a  New  Creation  or  New  Birth,  and  which  is  rep- 
resented as  being  brought  about  by  divine  assistance, 
unquestionably,  in  the  meaning  of  the  writers  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, involves  the  restoration  of  this  essential  element  of 
the  mental  constitution.  To  be  what  he  is  required  to  be, 
man  must  be  what  he  was  before  the  Fall ;  and  in  order 
to  be  in  this  situation,  the  great  requisite  is,  what  has  just 
been  mentioned,  to  love  God  with  all  the  heart. — We  fee' 
authorized,  therefore,  in  asserting,  that  originally  supreme 
love  to  God  was  an  essential  element  of  human  nature  ; 
and  that,  at  the  present  moment,  it  is,  or  ought  to  be  in 
p.  very  human  bosom,  a  distinct  and  operative  principle. 
Its  presence,  as  w^e  shall  be  led  to  see  in  the  succeeding 
section,  makes  man  w^hat  he  w'as  designed  to  be ;  its  ab- 
sence furnishes  an  easy  and  philosophical  explanation  of 
those  evils  which,  in  the  present  state  of  things,  so  fre^ 
^uently  press  themselves  on  our  notice. 

^  379.  Relation  of  the  principle  of  supreme  love  to  God  to  the  other 
principles  of  the  pathem-itic  ser.sibilitiea. 

Tn  giving  t.~i  account,  in  their  succession  and  ^lace,  oi 


LOVE    TO    THE    SUrKEME    JEIMG.  399 

ihf  princii)les  of  action  winch  go  to  constitute;  the  depart* 
tnent  of  the  Pathematic  sensibihties,  ^^■^  feel  at  hberb/, 
from  what  has  been  remarked,  to  place  at  their  head, 
both  as  most  important  in  its  results  and  as  highest  in 
rank,  the  principle  of  supreme  love  to  God.  K  it  be  said, 
as  undoubtedly  it  may  be  said  with  too  much  truth,  tn^t 
ihis  principle  of  human  action,  considered  as  a  distinct 
Send  permanent  principle,  is  obliterated,  it  is  nevertheles? 
tine  that  it  is  susceptible,  with  divine  aid,  of  a  restoia 
tion.  If  it  be  asserted  that  men  are  not  naturally  gov- 
erned by  it,  it  still  remains  certain,  if  the  precepts  of 
Scripture  may  be  understood  with  their  obvious  import, 
that  they  ought  to  be  governed  by  it. 

Mental  philosophy,  as  well  as  Divine  Revelation,  clear- 
ly indicates,  that  there  has  been  at  some  period  a  great 
mental  convulsion ;  that  the  glory  of  the  human  mind, 
although  not  absolutely  extinct,  is  greatly  obscured ;  and 
that  man,  in  respect  to  his  intellectual  and  moral  condi- 
tion, is  truly  and  aptly  described  as  a  fallen  being.  And 
in  this  deplorable  state  of  moral  obliquity  and  mutilation 
he  will  continue  to  remain,  if  the  views  which  have  been 
proposed  are  correct,  until  the  principle  of  supreme  love 
to  God  is  reinstated.  The  wisdom  which  we  claim  for 
the  structure  of  human  nature  cannot  be  asserted  with 
confidence  to  exist,  except  on  the  supposition  that  this 
great  pillar  of  its  support  originally  belonged  to  it,  and 
may  yet,  by  possibility,  belong  to  it. 

Now  supposing  this  principle  to  exist  in  the  human 
mind,  either  by  being  originally  implanted  as  in  Adam, 
or  by  being  restored  under  the  name  of  a  Regeneration 
or  New  Creation,  we  naturally  proceed  to  inquire  whai 
relation  it  holds  to  the  other  principles  in  this  department 
of  the  mind,  and  what  results  are  likely  to  attend  upon  it 
\n  point  of  mere  rank,  (that  is  to  say,  in  the  podtion 
which  it  occupies  and  ought  to  occupy  in  our  estima- 
tion,) we  cannot  hesitate  to  say  that  it  stands  first;  not 
only  before  the  Appetites  and  Propensities,  but  befo-e  ai) 
the  other  Afl'ections,  the  class  with  which  it  is  itself  prop- 
eriy  an-anged;  taking  the  precedence  by  an  incalciilabk 
remove,  not  only  of  the  love  of  country  and  the  Icve  of 
fnen':is.  but  of  the  love  of  parents  ani\  children.     "  He 


4D?7  THE    BENEVCLtTvr   AVVa  riJOTTS. 

"nat  lovelh  father  or  mother  more  than  me, is  noV  vvorlny 
)f  me;  and  he  that  loveth  son  or  daughter  more  Ihaii 
ne,  is  not  worthy  of  me."  Matt,  x.,  37.  The  henefic.a] 
resolts  connected  with  the  exercise  of  this  principle  ars 
such  as  might  be  expected  from  the  pre-eminent  rank  it 
sustains.  When  it  is  in  its  full  exercise,  rendered  to  its 
appropriate  object,  in  the  language  of  Scripture,  ^vith  ail 
hj  heart,  and  mind,  and  soul,  it  may  be  regarded  as  a 
matter  of  course,  that  all  the  subordinate  principles  will 
be  kept  in  their  place.  The  appetites,  the  propensities, 
and  the  domestic  affections  still  exist;  but  such  is  the 
ascendency  of  love  to  the  Supreme  Being,  that  every  in- 
ordinate tendency  is  rebuked,  and  they  all  revolve  in  the 
circle  which  God  in  the  beginning  assigned  to  them. 

!)  380.   The  absence  of  this  principle  attended  with  an  excessive  and 
sinful  action  of  other  principles. 

Now  take  for  a  moment  the  opposite  view,  and  let  u^i 
iee  if  we  may  not  account  for  what  has  sometimes  been 
called  the  Depravity  of  human  nature,  without  the  neces» 
sity  of  supposing  the  implantation  of  principles  which,  in 
themselves  necessarily,  and  under  all  circumstances,  are 
e\'il.  If  the  principle  of  Supreme  love  to  God  be  removed 
from  the  place  which  both  Scripture  and  reason  agree  in 
assigning  to  it  in  the  original  constitution  of  the  mind, 
one  of  the  most  important  checks  on  the  undue  exercise 
of  the  subordinate  principles  is  of  course  taken  away. 
The  love  which  is  drawn  fi'om  the  great  source  of  all 
good  will  naturally  centre  in  ourselves,  and  the  princi= 
pies  which  have  relation  to  our  present  enjoyment  and 
interest  will  become  predominant.  Hence  we  see  the 
disorders  which  all  impartial  inquirers,  even  heathen  phi- 
losophers, acknowledge  to  exist  in  the  human  race ;  and 
which  it  is  the  aim  of  enlightened  reason  and  philosophy, 
and  particularly  of  religion  in  its  instructions  and  its  spe- 
cial influences,  to  rectify.  The  Appetites,  which  before 
had  their  appropriate  place  and  offices,  have  now  broken 
ovei  their  allotted  limits,  and  are,  on  every  hand,  leading 
theii  victims  into  the  various  forms  of  excess  and  de^ 
bauchery.  The  Propensities,  many  of  Avhich  ccnnoct  ui 
closely  with  our  fellow-beings,  and  in  their  prcp^'i"  esfer- 


i,OVE    TO    THE    SUPREME    BEINC  10 i 

ii!^  imj/aii  no  small  degree  of  strength  and  enjoyment  lo 
human  chftracter,  have  become  inordinately  intense  in 
then-  action.     Conscience,  it  is  true,  continues  to  repeat 
its  remonstrances;  and  the  Will,  uader  the  suggestions 
')!'  Conscience,  makes  more  or  less  of  resistance ;  but  as 
they  are  not  sustained  by  the  love  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
which  could  not  fail,  if  it  existed,  to  operate  in  their  fa- 
VCMY,  the  contest  becomes  unequal,  and  the  efforts  which 
th<?y  make  are  found  to  be  unavailing.     In  this  state  of 
things,  men  who,  under  other  circumstances,  would  have 
leaned,  and  loved  to  lean,  on  the  great  arm  of  the  Al- 
mighty for  support,  now  find  their  chief  enjoyment  in  the 
pursuit  of  wealth  and  power,  and  in  the  unrestricted  in- 
tercourse and  the  uncertain  enjoyments  of  the  world. — It 
is  in  suck  a  condition  of  things  as  this -that  we  find  the 
true  source  of  the  follies  and  crimes  which  afflict  the  hu- 
man race.    The  dethronement  of  God  in  the  heart  neces- 
sarily involves   the  predominance  of  principles  which, 
however  innocent  and  useful  in  their  just  exercise,  become 
in  their  excess  evil,  and  "  only  evil  continually." 

)  381.  Furt.'ner  illustrations  of  the  results  of  th  ,  absence  of  this  principle. 

The  topic  of  the  last  section  is  one  of  no  small  impor- 
tance.    The  section,  it  will  be  noticed,  consists  chiefly  of 
a  statement  of  facts,  without  any  attempt  at  explanations. 
As  some  persons  may  not  at  first  readily  perceive  how  it 
happens  that  the  suspension  or  obliteration  of  the  princi- 
ple of  love  to  God  is  necessarily  or  naturally  attended 
with  the  evil  results  there  ascribed  to  it,  we  will  delay 
upon  the  subject  a  little  longer.    It  is  sometimes  the  case^ 
Ihat  a  mere  additional  illustration,  placing  the  subject  ii> 
h  new  light,  will  have  the  effect  upon  the  mind  of  the 
inquirer  of  an  argument  or  proof.     If  the  suspension  or 
■Qbliteration  of  any  other  principle  wall  be  followed  bj 
^results  analogous  to  those  which  have  been  describe!  aa 
accessory  to  the  extinction  of  love  to  God,  we  shall  clearly 
have,  in  this  circumstance,  an  evidence  that  the  results  in 
the  last  case  have  been  correctly  indicated.     And,  on  the 
othc  r  hand,  if  the  extinction  or  utter  inaction  of  subordi- 
nate principles  be  not  attended  with  irregularity  and  per 
version  in  other  parts  of  the  mi.id,  it  ^^nll  f'u-nish  a  strong 
Ll2 


4.02  THE    BENEVOLEMT   AFFECTIONS. 

piesuiEplujii  tliat  the  extinction  or  utter  inacticn  of  the 
higher  principles  will,  in  its  collateral  results,  be  equally 
harmless.  By  the  aid  of  these  statements  we  may  easily 
brino^  the  subject,  in  a  considerable  degree,  to  the  test  of 
common  observation.     And  what  is  the  fact  1 

We  will  make  the  supposition,  that,  in  the  case  of  soEn- 
^dividual,  the  domestic  affections  have  for  some  reason 
38come  permanently  extinct,  either  in  their  nature  or  in 
ibeir  action.  Such  instances,  though  not  by  any  means 
frequently,  may  yet  sometimes  be  found.  The  person  in 
whom  this  obliteration  or  utter  inaction  of  the  domestic 
affections  takes  place,  has  no  attachment  for  his  children 
or  any  of  his  family  such  as  he  used  to  have.  It  is  a 
matter  of  common  observation  and  remark,  that  a  persor 
n  such  a  situation  will  be  much  more  likely  than  anothei 
to  fall  under  the  dominion  of  the  lower  appetites ;  to  ad- 
dict himself,  for  instance,  to  licentious  practices,  or  to  be- 
come a  drunkard.  "While  the  domestic  affections  existed, 
while  he  looked  with  deep  interest  on  his  parents,  his 
children,  and  his  wife,  he  was  furnished  with  powerful 
auxiliary  motives  to  restrain  his  appetites.  He  saw  dis- 
Hnctly,  if  he  indulged  them,  they  would  not  only  inter- 
fere with  his  duties  to  his  family,  but  would  plunge  them 
into  deep  disgrace  and  sorrow.  So  great  influence  had 
this  view  of  his  situation  upon  his  mind,  that  he  was  en- 
abled to  sustain  himself  in  opposition  to  the  approaches 
of  the  evil  habits  which  threatened  him.  But  as  soon  as 
the  domestic  affections  became  extinct,  as  soon  as  the 
love  of  kindred  was  blasted  in  his  bosom,  he  fell  before 
them. 

Again,  if  we  suppose,  in  addition  to  the  extinction  ot 
the  domestic  affections,  the  further  obliteration  of  love  to 
ais  country  and  of  love  to  the  human  race,  (and  still 
more  if  we  add  the  extinction  of  the  principles  of  pity 
arid  gratitude,)  the  probability  of  his  falling  under  tht 
dominion  of  the  bodily  appetites,  and  of  degrading  him- 
self to  the  condition  of  a  brute,  will  be  obviously  increas- 
ed by  this  state  of  things.  With  the  removal  of  these 
leading  principles  of  hmnan  action,  there  is,  of  course,  a 
removal  of  an  important  class  of  motives  which  had  a 
favourable  tendency.     And  if  it  were  possible  fo"  him 


LOVE    10   THE   bUPREME    E£INO  405 

ftand  Jigainst  the  sohcitations  of  the  appetites  before,  he 
will  be  likely  to  fall  now.  The  Will,  whose  office  it  is, 
under  the  direction  of  the  Conscience,  to  regulate  and  re* 
Btrain  the  appetites,  received  important  assistance  frcm 
the  sources  which  have  been  alluded  to ;  but  with  the  re- 
moval of  that  assistance  its  power  is  proportionally  di- 
minished, and  all  hope  is  gone.  The  cravings  of  nature 
must  have  food  of  some  kind  ;  and  if  it  fails  to  be  fur 
nished  with  the  ennobling  aliment  which  is  generated  in 
the  love  of  oui'  families,  our  country,  and  mankind,  it 
will  inevitably  fatten  itself  on  the  mire  of  a  debasing 
sensuality. — This  is  the  common  sense  view  of  the  sub- 
ject ;  one  which  will  be  likely  to  commend  itself  to  the 
wSober  judgment  and  acceptance  of  all. 

It  is  clear  that  these  illustrations  will  apply  in  then 
full  strength  to  the  principle  of  love  to  God.  Just  sc 
long  as  this  principle  is  predominant,  it  is  impossible,  as 
has  been  before  stated,  for  the  inferior  principles  to  be- 
come excessive  and  morally  evil  in  their  action.  We 
feel,  under  the  influence  of  this  exalting  affection,  that 
we  cannot  so  much  dishonour  our  Maker ;  we  cannot  es- 
timate so  lightly  those  claims  of  gratitude  which  He  has 
upon  us ;  we  cannot  so  basely  contemn  our  infinite  obli- 
gations to  his  wisdom  and  benevolence,  as  to  indulge  for 
a  moment  any  exercise  of  the  passions  which  he  has  for- 
bidden. They  stand  rebuked  and  withering  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  object  that  has  the  dominion  in  our  hearts. 
But  only  obliterate  the  principle  of  Love  to  God ;  and 
at  once  a  thousand  motives,  which  enabled  us  to  keep 
thcra  in  their  proper  place,  are  lost  in  the  extinction  of 
die  principle  on  which  they  rested ;  and  other  principlffi^ 
infinilx.lv  below  it,  at  once  eaia  the  i^scendeacv. 


404  HAS  rs  or  thr  sensibilitiks 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

HABITS    OF    THE    SENSIBILITIES 

^  382.  Meaning  of  the  term  habit. 

We  pi  opose  to  bring  the  subject  of  this  depaitmenl  uf 
die  Sensibihties  to  a  conclusion  by  some  slight  referemics 
to  the  results  of  the  law  of  Habit,  considered  in  connex- 
ion with  this  portion  of  our  nature.  As  we  have  already 
had  occasion  to  make  some  remarks  upon  the  general  i.a- 
ture  of  Habit,  and  have  seen  in  repeated  instances  <ts 
bearing  upon  mental  action,  it  will  not  be  necessary  to 
.•r.pend  much  time  upon  that  subject  here.  The  term 
Habit,  in  its  application  to  the  various  mental  powers, 
expresses  the  simple  fact,  that  the  mental  action  acquires 
facility  and  strength  bij  re-petition  or  practice. 

^  383.  Of  habits  in  conne.xion  with  the  appetites. 

In  considering  the  results  of  Habit,  in  connexion  with 
that  portion  of  the  Natural  or  Pathematic  Sensibilides 
which  involves  desire,  viz.,  the  Instincts,  Appetites,  tro- 
pensities,  and  Aifections,  we  shall  adhere  to  the  arrai.»gc- 
ment  which  has  hitherto  been  followed,  with  the  excep" 
tion  of  the  Instincts,  to  which  the  law  of  Habit  does  nol 
apply. — We  proceed  to  remark,  therefore,  that  there  may 
be  appetitive  habits;  in  other  words,  that  the  Appeiites, 
the  class  of  sensitive  principles  next  in  order  to  the  In- 
stincts, acquire  strength  from  repeated  indulgence.  Tlie 
appetites  in  their  first  or  original  operation  act  instmctive- 
ly ;  but  it  is  incidental  to  their  nature,  as  it  is  to  all  the 
mDilifications  of  Desire,  that  their  gratification  h  attended 
ivith  rr.ore  or  less  of  pleasure.  In  connexion  with  thiF  ex- 
perience of  pleasure,  we  frequently  stimulate  them  tc  ao« 
tion  a  second  time,  under  circumstances  when  there  w  ould 
be  but  little,  and  perhaps  no  occasion,  for  a  purely  instinct" 
ive  exercise.  But  the  desire,  as  it  is  thus,  by  a  voluntary' 
effort,  or,  at  least,  by  a  voluntary  permission,  indulged 
!5gain  and  again,  rapidly  becomes  more  and  more  'jiteuse 


hAlUTS    OK    THF    SENSicILllIKS  4U.'l 

nil  at  last  it  is  found  to  acquire  a  complete  uscemlency 
That  such  is  the  process  appears  to  be  proved  by  what 
unfortunately  we  have  so  Irequent  occasion  to  notice  in 
those  who  are  in  the  practice  of  taking  intoxicating  drinks. 
If  they  had  indulged  their  appetite  only  a  few  tunes,  they 
would  undoubtedly  have  retained  their  mastery  over  it. 
But  as  this  indulgence  has  been  repeated  often,  and  con 
rinued  for  a  considerable  length  of  time,  the  appetite 
growing  stronger  with  each  repetition,  has  gradually  ac- 
i^uired  the  predominance,  till  it  has  brought  the  whole 
man,  as  it  were,  into  captivity. — (See  §  49.) 

^  390.   Of  habits  in  connexion  with  the  propensities. 

The  Propensities,  as  well  as  the  Appetites,  are  subjeci 
to  the  influence  of  this  law ;  in  other  words,  there  may 
be  propensive  as  well  as  appetitive  habits.  The  princi- 
ple of  Sociality,  for  instance,  has  an  instinctive  action ; 
but  there  is  no  question  that  we  have  the  power,  as  it  is 
'indoubtedly  our  duty,  to  subject  it  to  suitable  regulation. 
But  if,  instead  of  doing  this,  we  indulge  it  continually 
for  the  mere  sake  of  the  pleasure  w^e  experience,  v/ithoul 
regard  to  the  other  claims  existing  upon  us,  we  shall  find 
it  rapidly  acquiring  undue  strength,  and  every  day  will 
render  it  more  difficult  to  regulate  it  properly.  And,  in 
point  of  fact,  it  is  sometimes  the  case,  that  we  find  per- 
sons who,  in  consequence  of  an  unrestricted  indulgence 
of  a  principle  otherwise  naturally  good,  have  brought 
themselves  into  such  a  situation,  that  retirement,  which 
every  reasonable  man  ought  sometimes  to  desire,  is  al 
ways  exceedingly  irksome  to  them. 

Perhaps  not  one  of  the  Propensities  can  be  named 
which  may  not  be  greatly  strengthened  in  the  same  way. 
[t  is  well  known  in  what  countless  instances  the  desire  of 
Possession,  growing  stronger  by  continued  repetition,  be- 
Domes  an  ascendant  and  controlling  principle.  We  are 
aot  to  suppose  that  the  intense  love  which  the  miser  has 
for  his  possessions,  existed  in  him  naturally  and  originally. 
We  do,  indeed,  admit  that  the  seed  or  element  of  it,  the 
basis  on  whi';h  it  rests,  existed  in  him  naturally,  as  it  ex- 
ists in  all  men.  But  how  does  it  happen  that  it  shows 
tse  f  in  til) 5  exa^oerated  and  intense  form  ?     This  is  the 


406  HABITS   OF    THE    SENSIBILITIES. 

work  of  the  man  himselt,  and  for  which  the  manhiinjeji 
IS  accountable,  rather  than  the  original  tendencies  of  his 
nature.  From  mornino-  till  night,  from  day  to  day,  and 
from  year  to  year,  the  Possessory  principle  has  been  vol- 
untarily kept  in  intense  exercise.  And  the  natural  and 
necessary  result  has  been,  that  it  has  become  the  ruling 
nentiment  of  the  heart. 

So  of  the  desire  of  Power.  Tn  itself  considered,  power 
may  properly  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  various  forms  of 
natural  good.  And  accordingly  we  are  at  liberty  to  take 
the  ground,  as  was  formerly  seen  in  the  remarks  on  that 
subject,  that  the  desire  of  power,  if  duly  subordinated,  is 
not  reprehensible.  But  in  a  multitude  of  instances,  this 
desire  is  far  from  showing  itself  in  the  aspect  of  a  subordi- 
nate principle.  And  the  reason  is,  that  it  has  acquired 
inordinate  strength  by  repetition ;  a  habit  of  mind  has 
been  formed,  which  has  resulted  in  its  becoming  predomi- 
nant. The  individual,  in  whom  it  exists  in  this  intense 
form,  is  not  satisfied  with  anything  short  of  the  prostra- 
tion of  every  other  person  at  his  own  feet.  It  would 
hardly  be  going  too  far  to  say,  that  he  looks  upon  the  Su- 
preme Being,  when  he  contemplates  his  greatness  and  ol 
pvation,  in  the  light  of  a  rival  and  an  enemy. 

(J  385.   Of  habits  in  connexion  with  the  affections. 

P^emarks  similar  to  what  have  been  made  in  respect 
to  the  lower  active  or  motive  principles,  will  apply,  in 
like  manner,  to  the  higher  class  of  the  Affections.  We 
sometimes  see,  for  instance,  decided  indications  of  the 
result  of  Habit  in  the  progress  of  the  Malevolent  Affec- 
tions. A  man  entertains  a  degree  of  dislike  to  his  neigh- 
hour ;  it  appears  perhaps  at  first  in  the  form  of  a  mere 
unpleasant  suspicion  ;  these  suspicious  and  unpleasant 
feelings  are  frequently  indulged ;  we  see  them  gradually 
growing  deeper  and  deeper,  assuming  under  the  influence 
of  Habit  a  more  fixed  and  determinate  form,  and  ulti- 
mately  appearing  in  the  shape  of  malignant  and  perma- 
nent hatred. 

The  law  of  Habit  applies,  in  the  same  manner,  to  thu 
Benevolent  affections.  The  parental  affection  is  strong 
and  decided  in  the  very  bcginuino;  of  its  existence      Bu 


HABITS    OF    THE    SENSIBII  iTIES  4()^ 

ti-e  dependent  situation  of  the  beloved  object  en  which 
It  fastens,  keeps  it  almost  constantly  in  exercise.  And 
thws,  unless  there  are  some  improprieties  in  the  conducl 
of  the  child,  which  check  and  diminish  the  results  natu 
rally  f.:)llowing  under  such  circumstances,  it  rapidly  ac- 
quires immense  strength.  And  hence  it  may  be  explain 
ed  in  part,  that  when  a  son  or  daughter,  in  the  maturity 
of  youth  or  on  the  verge  of  womanhood,  is  taken  awa> 
fcy  death,  the  grief  of  the  parent,  always  great  at  sucii 
(lines,  is  more'intense  and  excessive  than  when  death 
takes  place  in  infancy.  The  death  of  the  child  at  the  la- 
ter period  of  life  not  only  blasts  a  greater  number  of 
hopes,  but  as  love,  by  a  long-repeated,  cumulative  pro- 
cess,  has  been  added  and  incorporated  with  love,  it  carries 
away,  if  one  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  a  greater 
portion  of  the  heart. 

We  may  unquestionably  apply  these  views  to  all  those 
iflfcctions  which  are  properly  characterized  as  Benevo- 
lent, to  Friendship,  Pah-iotism,  Gratitude,  and  Sympathy 
He  who  is  so  situated  that  he  is  required  to  think  much 
on  the  interests  and  good  of  his  country,  and  whose  love 
of  country  is  in  this  way  kept  constantly  in  exercise, 
will  be  found,  other  things  being  equal,  to  exhibit  in  the 
day  of  trial  a  more  intense  ardour  of  patriotism  than  oth- 
ers. He  who,  by  his  untiring  attentions  to  the  poor,  the 
sick,  and  the  prisoner,  has  kept  his  sympathetic  affection? 
in  action  for  a  long  series  of  years,  will  hnd  the  principli- 
of  sjTOpathy  more  thoroughly  consubstantial  in  his  nature 
and  more  intensely  operative,  than  if  it  had  lain  dormant 
And  we  may  add,  that  this  doctrine,  in  all  its  extent,  is 
applicable  to  the  highest  of  all  (he  Benevolent  aifections- 
that  of  love  to  God.  This  ennobhng  principle,  this  pre- 
eminent trait,  which  allies  us  not  only  to  just  men  mad^ 
perfect,  tut  to  angels,  is  an  improvable  one.  Under  the 
influence  of  Habit,  we  find  it,  even  in  the  present  life,  going 
on  from  one  degree  of  brightness  and  strength  to  another. 
The  more  we  think  of  God,  the  more  frequei  tly  w^e  con- 
nect  him  with  all  our  ordinary  transr  ctions,  the  more  will 
ihe  broad  orb  of  his  glory  expand  7'self  to  our  concep- 
C'.ons,  and  call  forth  the  hnmago  and  love  of  tie  heart 


408  liAlJlTs"    CF    THE    SENSIBILITIES. 

<f  386    Of  tlic  or/gin  of  secondary  active  priiici[  les. 

1 1  IS  here,  in  connexioLi  with  the  views  of  this  C;ha5> 
!er,  that  we  find  an  explanation  of  the  origin  of  what  art 
cailed  SECONDARY  principles  of  action.  Some  individu- 
als, for  instance,  are  seen  to  possess  a  decided  passion  fo? 
dress,  furniture,  and  equipage.  We  are  not  to  su})post' 
ihat  this  passion  is  one  which  is  originally  implanted  in  the 
?i'iman  mind,  although  it  may  be  so  permanent  and  so  de- 
ouied  in  its  action  as  to  have  something  of  that  appearance 
iiie  probability  is,  setting  aside  w'hatever  may  be  truly 
Uitaresting  or  beautiful  in  the  objects,  that  they  are  chiefly 
sought  after^  not  so  much  for  what  they  are  in  themselves. 
as  for  some  form  of  good,  particularly  some  esteem  anu 
onour,  to  which  they  are  supposed  to  be  introductory  and 
uxiliary  But  the  desire,  existing  in  the  first  instance  in 
reference  to  some  supposed  beneficial  end,  has  been  so 
long  exercised,  that  we  at  last,  in  virtue  of  what  may 
properly  be  called  a  Habit,  so  closely  associate  the  means 
and  the  end,  that  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  separate 
them.  So  that,  after  a  time,  we  apparently  have  a  real 
love  or  affection  for  the  means  itself,  (the  dress,  furniture, 
equipage,  or  whatever  it  is,)  independently,  in  a  great  de- 
gree, of  the  ultimate  object,  in  connexion  with  which  il 
first  excited  an  interest  in  us. 

There  are  some  men,  to  illustrate  the  subject  still  further, 
who  appear  to  have  a  strong  love  for  money ;  we  do  not 
mean  property  in  the  more  general  sense  of  the  term,  but 
MOrXEY,  the  gold  and  the  silver  coin  in  itself  considered, 
the  mere  naked  issue  of  the  mint.  This  is  one  of  the  va- 
rious forms  which  the  too  common  vice  of  Avarice  some- 
times assumes.  But  we  cannot  suppose  that  the  love  of 
money,  in  this  sense  of  the  terms,  is  a  passion  connatural 
to  the  human  mind,  and  that  men  aie  born  with  it.  li 
B  loved,  in  the  first  instance,  simply  as  a  means,  subordi- 
nate to  some  supposed  beneficial  end.  The  jierson  ha^ 
l<>oked  upon  it  for  years  as  the  means  of  enjoyment,  influ- 
vace,  and  honour ;  in  this  way  he  has  formeil  a  Habit  ci' 
iissocsating  the  means  and  the  end ;  and  they  have  be.- 
wmc  so  closely  connected  in  his  thoughts,  that,  in  onii- 
niry  cases,  he  finds  himself  unable  to  separate  them. 
\jrain,  we  ar*?  not  to  suppose  that  men  are  bnrn  wiii 


HABITS    OF    THE    SENSIBILITIES,  1(;9 

flatuial  desire  for  the  society  of  mice  and  spiders,  such 
as  \vc  have  reason  to  think  they  naturally  entertain  for 
that  of  their  fellow-men.  But  in  the  entire  exclusion  of 
all  human  beings,  we  fmd  the  principle  of  sociality,  de- 
prived of  its  legitimate  and  customary  sources  of  gratifi- 
i^ation,  fastening  itself  upon  these  humble  companions 
A  man,  as  in  the  case  of  Baron  Trenck  and  Count  Lau- 
zun,  may  form  an  acquaintance  with  these  animals,  which, 
aided  by  the  principle  of  Habit,  will,  after  a  time,  exhib 
it  a  distinctness  and  intensity,  which  are  commonly  char- 
acteristic only  of  the  original  passions. — In  this  way  there 
may  unquestionably  be  formed  a  series  of  secondary  ap- 
petites, propensities,  and  affections,  almost  without  num- 
ber. And  we  have  here  opened  to  us  a  new  and  inter- 
esting view  of  hmnan  nature,  capable  of  being  so  applied 
as  to  explain  many  things  in  the  history  and  conduct  of 
men,  which,  however,  we  are  not  at  liberty  in  Ibis  coa- 
cesion  to  explore  more  minutely, 
M  m 


^.WMa-tfVT    "n  I'J  -1   ,:'m-,','{-„^'I!t,« 


THE   SENSIBILITIES. 

PART  SECOND. 
THE  MORAL  SENSIBILITIES  OR  CONSCIENCE. 

MORAL  OR  CONSCIENTIOUS   STATES  OF  THE  MIND. 
MOR<\.L  SENTIMENTS. 

M.  ..  .,  I.  »  »  mm  W.JLJ..  It^U.MW  .J..^— ,...l.|.-.l^.,^im»H.     ..  WJ    l  .^»HIM|l  Jl  l<IWI'>' JiH».H.»l.'-lllMJ.Tg3gl 


CHAPTER  I. 

BMOTION?!   OF    MORAL    APrUOVAL   AND   bISAl  PROTftL. 

6  387.  Reference  to  the  general  division. 

In  entering  upon  the  examination  of  the  interesting  nwd 
ijaportant  department  of  the  mental  nature,  which  now 
p  resents  itself  to  our  notice,  it  is  proper  to  revert  a  mo- 
ment to  that  general  division  of  the  mind  which  we  have 
endeavoured  throughout  to  adhere  to  as  the  basis  of  our 
inquiries.  The  genera!  classification,  it  will  be  recolle;*'. 
ed,  was  into  the  Intellect,  the  Sensibilities,  and  the  Wil/. 
In  passing  from  the  purely  intellectual  region  to  that  of 
the  Sensibilities,  we  first  find  ourselves  in  the  subordinate 
department  of  the  Emotions.  And,  leaving  the  emotions, 
we  may  advance  onward,  and  come  in  contact  with  the 
Btill  m(jre  interior  and  remote  department  of  the  Will,  ei- 
ther by  passing  through  the  region  of  the  Desires  on  the 
one  hand,  or  through  the  space  occupied,  if  we  may  be 
allowed  to  use  such  expressions  in  connexion  with  the 
iiiind,  by  the  feelings  of  Moral  Obligation  on  the  other. 
In  accordance  with  this  plan,  we  made  it  our  first  object 
CO  examine  some  of  the  leading  emotions  which  come 
:jnder  the  head  of  the  Natural  or  Pathematic  Sensibilities. 
And  then,  taking  the  direction  of  the  Desires,  end eavom- 
ed,  in  a  variety  of  remarks  on  the  Instincts,  Appetites, 
Propensities,  and  Affections,  to  explain  what  may  prop- 
erly be  included  under  that  head. 

Having  completed,  in  such  manner  as  we  are  able, 
that  part  of  the  subject,  we  propose  to  return  again  to  the 
region  of  the  Emotions,  a  part  of  which  are  included  un- 
der the  general  head  of  the  Moral  Sensibilities,  and  to 
approach  the  Will  in  the  op])osite  direction.  In  carryinp' 
this  plan  into  eflect,  and  in  giving  a  philosophical  account 
of  the  Moral  in  distinction  from  the  Natural  or  Pathematic 
Sensibilities,  we  shall  not  delay  to  consider  the  general 
question,  whether  man  has  a  moral  nature  or  not.  We 
take  it  for  granted  that  he  has.  The  well-known  passaecf 
M  M  2 


414      EMOTIONS  OF  IV/ORAL  ArPROVAL  A?rt)  DftAPrROVAI. 

of  the  Apostle,  not  to  mention  other  considerations,  seema 
to  l)e  decisive  on  this  point  "  For  when  the  Gentiles, 
ichidi  have  not  the  law,  do  by  natuie  the  things  cordained 
o.)i  the  law,  these,  having  not  the  laio,  are  a  law  unto  thetii- 
selves  ;  which  show  the  work  of  the  law  written  in  their 
heart:,  their  Conscience  also  bearing  witness,  and  their 
thoughts  the  7nean  while  accusing,  or  else  excusing  -^ne  an  < 
fAher.^' 

^  33S.   Classification  of  the  moral  sensibilities. 

The  Moral  nature  is  less  complicated  than  the  Pathe- 
inatic,  although  the  general  division  of  the  Moral  Sensi- 
bilities corresponds  precisely  to  the  general  division  of  the 
Natural  or  Pathematic  Sensibilities.  As  the  Natural  Sen- 
sibilities resolved  themselves,  in  the  first  instance,  into  the 
subordinate  classification  of  the  Emoticvis  and  Desires,  so 
the  Moral  Sensibilities,  m  a  manner  prec'sely  correspond- 
mg,  resolve  themselves  into  the  subordina.'^e  classification 
of  moral  Emotions  and  feelings  of  Moral  Obligation.  But 
{30th  divisions  of  the  Natural  Sensibilities,  it  will  be  rec- 
ollected, VIZ.,  the  Emotive  and  the  Desirous,  were  found 
to  be  susceptible  of  numerous  minor  divisions.  It  is  not 
so  in  the  moral  department.  The  class  of  moral  emotions, 
and  the  obligatory  feeling  or  feelings  of  moral  obligation-; 
which  are  based  upon  them,  will  be  found,  exclusive  ot 
any  subordinate  divisions,  to  comprehend  the  whole  sub- 
ject, 

Jt  might  be  supposed,  therefore,  that  this  subject  would 
be  despatched  in  a  few  w^ords.  And  so  it  would,  if  the 
discussion  could  properly  be  limited  to  the  mere  exami- 
nation of  these  feelings.  But  the  moral  sentiments,  both 
the  eirwtive  and  the  obligatory,  sustain  such  important 
relation:?;,  and  involve  so  many  important  consequences, 
that  it  seems  to  be  proper,  not  only  to  examine  them  in 
their  own  nature,  but  also  to  conrader  them,  to  some  ex- 
lent,  in  their  multiplied  connexions. 

(f  3S9.  Nature  of  the  moral  emotions  of  approval  and  disapproTs!. 

In  accordance  w^ith  what  has  been  said  in  the  foregoing; 
K-ction,  \ve  repeat  that  there  are  but  two  classes  of  inen- 
"*!  state-J  whicb  belong,  in  strictness  of  f^peech,  to  the 


KMOTIONS  OF  MOFxAL  APPROVAL  AXL   DISAPPROVAL.      4  lb 

Uloial  sensibilities,  considered  as  being  by  nature  an  es- 
sential portion  of  the  human  mind ;  although  it  is  very 
true  that  there  are  a  number  of  things  in  ihi  mind,  such 
as  the  abstract  conceptions  of  right  and  wrong,  and  the 
feelings  of  remorse,  which  have,  both  theoretically  and 
practically,  an  important  connexion  with  morals.  The 
Moral  Nature,  properly  so  called,  jjutting  out  of  view  th« 
incidental  relations  it  sustains,  exists  and  developes  itself, 
fiflSt,  in  the  moral  Emotions,  viz.,  of  approval  and  disap- 
proval ;  and,  second,  in  the  feelings  of  moral  Obligation. 
While  there  are  many  kinds  of  the  Natural  or  Pathe- 
matic  emotions,  such  as  the  emotions  of  beauty,  of  sub- 
lunity,  of  the  ludicrous,  of  cheerfulness,  of  surprise,  of 
reverence,  of  shame,  and  the  like,  there  is  but  one  kind 
or  class  of  Moral  emotions.  And  these  are  known,  con- 
sidered as  distinct  states  of  mind,  by  the  names  by  which 
they  have  just  been  described,  viz.,  as  feelings  of  approval 
and  disapproval.  Of  these  states  of  mind  we  now  pro- 
ceed to  give  some  account. — And  our  first  remark  is,  that 
they  are  original  feelings ;  which  implies  that,  in  the  ap- 
propriate circumstances  of  their  existence,  they  are  called 
forth  by  the  original  or  constitutional  tendencies  of  the 
inind,  and  also  that  they  are  elementary  or  simple.  Of 
course  they  are  not  susceptible  of  definition,  since  defi- 
ning, except  that  sort  of  apparent  defining  which  consists 
in  the  mere  use  of  synonymous  terms,  is  predicable  only 
of  what  is  complex.  Hence,  in  their  distinctive  or  ap- 
propriate nature,  in  that  which  constitutes  them  what  they 
are,  considered  as  separate  from  anything  and  everything 
else,  they  cannot  be  known  by  description,  but  by  con- 
sciousness only.  Nevertheless,  we  are  not  at  liberty  to 
suppose  that  their  nature  is  either  absolutely  unknovv^n, 
or,  as  a  general  thing,  even  misunderstood ;  inasmuch  as 
the  consciousness  of  such  feelings  is  universal,  and  as  no 
form  of  knowledge,  it  is  generally  admitted,  is  more  dis- 
tinct to  our  apprehension  than  that  which  has  conscious- 
ness for  its  basis.  Whoever,  therefoi-e,  ha's  had  placed 
before  him  any  case  of  right  and  wrong  of  such  a  nature 
that  he  could  have,  and  did  in  fact  have,  a  clear  appre* 
hension  of  it,  ii>  itself  and  in  its  relations,  must,  we  sup 
liose,  have  q  kno"*ledge  (and  if  he  has  not,  it  is  impossi- 


416      EMOTIONS  OF  MORAL  APPROVAL  AND  blSAPPROVAf- 

ble  he  ever  f.liould  have)  of  emitions  of  approval  <in(i 
disapproval, 

4  300.   Of  the  place  or  position,  menially  cor,sRleieJ,  of  die  cmoticns  m 
approval  or  disapproval. 

Moral  emoiions,  or  emotions  of  moral  approval  and 
disapproval,  occupy  a  place,  considered  in  reference  to 
other  departments  of  the  mind,  immediately  successive  to 
aitellcctions  or  acts  of  the  intellect. — In  this  respect  they 
agree  with  the  natural  or  pathematic  emotions,  which  oc 
!i"upy  the  same  position.  It  is,  for  instance,  impossible  for 
us  to  feel  the  beauty  of  an  object,  which  is  an  act  of  the 
Natural  sensibilities,  without  first  having  a  perception  or 
knowledge  of  the  object  itself.  In  like  manner,  it  is  im- 
possible for  us  to  approve  or  disapprove  a  thing,  in  the 
moral  sense  of  the  terms,  without  first  having  some  per- 
ception, some  knowdedge  of  the  thing  approved  or  disap- 
proved. 

And  as  the  natural  emotions  are  immediately  followed 
by  Desires ;  so  the  moral  emotions,  viz.,  of  approval  and 
disapproval,  (for  these  are  all  the  states  of  mind  that  are 
properly  comprehended  under  that  phrase,)  ai-e  followed, 
in  like  manner,  by  Obligatory  feelings,  or  feelings  of 
moral  obligation.  The  position,  therefore,  of  moral  emo- 
tions, and  they  are  found  nowhere  else,  is  between  per- 
ceptions or  intellective  acts  on  the  one  hand,  and  Oblig- 
atory sentin'icnts  on  the  other.  And  as  there  can  be  no 
moral  emotions  witho  it  antecedent  perceptions,  so  there 
can  be  no  feelings  of  vnoral  obligation  without  antecedent 
emotions  of  approval  and  disapproval.  Accordingly,  if 
we  are  said,  in  any  given  case,  to  be  under  obligation, 
either  to  cb  a  thing  or  to  abstain  from  doing  it,  w^e  may 
always  find  a  reason  for  our  thus  being  under  obligation 
in  the  antecedent  action  of  the  mind,  viz.,  in  our  approval 
or  disapproval,  as  the  case  may  be,  of  the  thing  to  whi  zh 
the  obligation  relates. 

f)  331 ,   Changes  in  the  moral  emoiions  take  place  in  accordance  With 
clianges  in  the  antecedent  perceptions. 

If  tlie  emotions  of  approval  and  disappro-,-al,  which  are 
the  basis  of  the  subsequent  feelings  of  moral  obligation, 
are  naturally  founded  upon  antecedent  percdtions,  wfl 


KMOTIONSs  OP   .iinKAL    APPROVAL  AM)  DlSAI'l  ROVAl .      4*7 

may  expect,  and  such  is  the  fact,  that  they  will  change  in 
cheir  character  in  accordance  with  changes  in  those  per 
ceptions.  If,  for  instance,  a  statement  of  facts  is  made  to 
UH,  clearly  establishing  in  our  view  a  case  of  great  crime, 
our  emotions  of  disapjiroval  are  prompt  and  decided.  But 
if  it  should  happen  that  afterward  some  new  facts  are 
mingled  in  the  statement,  throwing  a  degree  of  doubt 
and  perplexity  upon  what  was  believed  to  have  taken 
place,  the  feelings  of  disapproval  would  at  once  become 
perplexed  and  undecided,  in  a  degree  precisely  corre- 
sponding to  the  perplexity  and  indecision  that,  under  the 
new  circumstances,  pervade  the  intellectual  perception  in 
the  case.  If  still  subsequently  the  introduction  of  other 
new  facts  should  show  that  wdiat  w^as  supposed  to  be  a 
crime  was  directly  the  reverse,  our  moral  emotions  would 
undergo  a  new  change,  and,  instead  of  condemning  the 
transaction  either  more  or  less  decidedly,  would  approve 
Nor  is  this  changeableness  in  the  character  and  the 
degree  of  the  moral  emotions  to  be  regarded  as  imjilying 
any  defect  in  the  moral  nature.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
unquestionably  one  of  the  most  decisive  indications  of  its 
value.  If  the  raoml  nature  were  so  constituted  as  not 
only  to  pronounce  a  thing  right  or  WTong  under  certain 
given  circumstances,  but  necessarily  to  adhere  to  that  de- 
cision under  essential  changes  in  the  circumstances,  it  cer- 
tainly could  not  be  regarded  as  a  safe  rule  for  men's  gui- 
dance. A  man  kills  another  by  means  of  the  infliction 
of  a  heavy  blow,  and,  as  we  suppose,  with  evil  intention 
or  malice  prepense,  and  the  action  is  at  once  disapproved 
and  condemned  by  conscience.  Buf  it  subsequently  ap- 
pears that  the  blow,  which  had  the  appearance  at  first  o/ 
being  intentional,  was  entirely  a  matter  of  accident ;  and 
tlie  conscience  or  moral  nature  immediately  conforms  its 
decision  to  the  new  aspect  of  the  transaction,  and  annuls 
ihe  disapproving  and  condemnatory  sentence  which  it  liad 
before  pronounced.  If  it  were  other^\ase,  if  it  did  not 
promptly  and  fully  conform  itself,  by  changes  in  its  own 
action,  to  antecedent  changes  in  the  percipient  or  cogni- 
tive action^  it  would  confound  vice  and  virtue,  .guilt  and  in- 
nocence ;  and,  as  a  rule  of  moral  conduct,  would  not  only 
b€  without  \alue,but  absolutely  and  exceedirgly  injurious. 


418      EM0T10?.S  OF  MORAL  APmOVAL  AXD  DISAPPROVAL 
^  592.  Of  objects  of  moral  approval  atid  disapproval. 

We  are  not  to  suppose  that  the  sphere  of  that  mora 
adjudicr.tion,  which  is  involved  in  the  existence  of  emo- 
tions of  moral  approval  and  disapproval,  extends  to  all  ob- 
jects indiscrimniately.  It  is  a  proper  inquiry,  therefore, 
and  in  some  respects  an  important  inquiry,  what  are  the 
appropriate  objects  of  approving  and  disapproving  emo- 
tioas. — In  answer  to  this  question,  we  remark  in  the 
first  place  that  such  objects  are  voluntary  agents.  The 
feelings  in  question,  in  their  announcements  of  the  right 
and  the  WTong  of  any  case  that  comes  oefore  them, 
have  nothing  to  do  with  things  without  life.  And  more 
than  this,  they  require,  as  the  objects  of  their  exercise, 
something  more  than  mere  vegetable  and  animal  hfe,  viz., 
intellective,  sensitive,  and  volitive  life.  In  other  words, 
they  require,  in  the  appropriate  objects  of  their  adiudica- 
tion  those  attributes  of  perceiving,  feeling,  and  willing, 
which  are  necessarily  imphed  in  voluntary  agency. 

(11.)  In  the  second  placf,  the  legitimate  objects  of  ap- 
proval and  disapproval  art  not  only  voluntary  agents,  but 
MORAL  agents.  No  being  is  the  object  of  moral  emotions, 
(that  is  to  say,  no  being  can  by  possibihty  be  approver 
or  disapproved  in  the  moral  sense  of  the  terms,)  except 
such  as  have  a  conscience  or  moral  nature.  It  is  impos 
sible  that  any  others  should  have  a  knowledge  of  right 
and  wrong  ;  and,  of  course,  impossible  that  they  should 
conform  themselves  to  the  rule  of  right.  Hence  no  ony 
regards  brute  animals  as  the  proper  objects  of  these  emo- 
t'ons. 

(III.)  Again,  moral  agents  (this  expression,  of  course, 
implies  that  they  are  also  voluntary  agents)  are  moral- 
ly accountable ;  in  other  w^ords,  are  the  proper  objects 
of  moral  approval  and  disapproval,  in  respect  to  tho.se 
things  only  which  aic  truly  in  their  power.  This  re- 
mark, wdiich  limits  Ihe  s])here  of  moral  approval  and 
disapproval  not  only  1o  moral  agents,  but  to  what  is  ac- 
tually in  the  poiver  of  moral  agents,  is  practically  an  im- 
portant one.  So  far  as  we  can  regulate  our  outward 
Bctions,  we  are  accountable ;  that  is  to  say,  we  are  the 
proper  objects  of  the  emotions  of  moral  approval  and 
disapproval.     So  far  as  tvc  can  regulate  the  action  of  th? 


RELATION  OF  Ill".*.iOMN(.  T-.   THE  MORAL  NATURE.      419 

intdlect,  the  sensibilities,  and  iV.c'  will,  we  are  accoujita" 
ble  also.  So  far  as  llie  acticii,  whether  physical  or  men- 
tal, is  either  involuntary  or  instinctive,  it  is  not  an  appro- 
priate object  of  the  notice  and  adjudication  of  conscience ; 
for  all  such  action,  although  it  belongs  to,  and  is  not  sep- 
arable from,  the  agent,  is  nevertheless  not  under  his  con- 
trol — Accortlingly,  when  the  mcral  agent,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  all  his  various  powers,  does  what  he  ought  to  do, 
he  stands  approved.  When,  in  the  exercise  of  the  same 
powers,  he  fails  to  do  what  he  ought  to  do,  he  stands 
condemned.  The  extent  of  his  capability  is  the  basis  of 
his  duty  ;  and  the  law  of  conscience  is  the  measure  of  its 
fulfilment.  And  this  simple  statement  intimates  both  Ihe 
rule  by  which  he  is  judged,  and  the  vast  amount  of  hia 
responsibility. 


CHAPTER  II. 

RELATION   OF    REASONING    TO   THE    MORAL   NATURE 
^  393.  Of  the  doctrine  which  confounds  reasoning  and  consciencf. 

We  are  now  prepared,  in  view  of  what  has  oeen  said 
i.:\  the  last  Chapter,  particularly  in  connexion  with  the 
subject  of  the  grounds  or  principles  on  which  changes 
take  place  in  moral  emotions,  to  proceed  to  another  sub- 
ject not  more  interesting  than  it  is  practically  important. 
— The  opinion  has  sometimes  been  advanced,  that  those 
moral  decisions  or  judgments,  which,  as  moral  beings,  we 
are  capable  of  forming,  are  the  direct  results  of  reasoning 
The  advocates  of  this  doctrine,  rejecting  the  idea  of  a 
distinct  moral  principle  or  conscience,  appear  to  regard 
the  reasoning  power  as  entirely  adequate  to  the  causation 
of  all  those  results  in  the  mind  which  have  a  moral  as- 
pect In  a  word,  they  may  be  regarded  either  as  deny- 
ing entirely  the  existence  of  conscience,  or,  what  is  phil- 
osophically, if  not  practicall}",  the  same  thing,  as  identify- 
ing it  \yi\h  mere  ratiocination. 

It  \s  not  surprising,  on  the  whole,  that  this  mistake. 


420      RELATION  OF  REASONLVG  TO  THE  MORAL  NATbUE. 

whicn  is  certainly  a  very  serious  and  prejudiaal  orft, 
should  have  been  committed,  when  we  consider  \\o\t 
close  the  relation  is  which  reason  sustains  to  conscience. 
It  will  be  noticeJ  chat  we  speak  without  any  hesitation 
of  Uie  doctrine  referred  to  as  a  mistaken  one.  We  do 
not  suppose  it  to  be  necessary,  after  what  has  already 
been  said,  to  attempt  to  show  that  reasoning  and  con- 
science are  not  identical,  and  that  the  moral  nature  has  a 
tlistinct  and  substantive  existence.  Nevertheless,  we  free- 
ly admit  the  intimate  and  important  relation  which  they 
sustain  to  each  other.  A  relation  so  important,  in  a  prac- 
tical as  well  as  in  a  philosophical  point  of  view,  that  wt 
shall  delay  here  for  the  purpose  of  entering  into  som<^ 
explanations  of  it. 

<)  394.  Of  the  close  connexion  between  conscience  and  reasonnig. 

Reasoning:,  it  wall  be  recollected,  is  purely  an  intellect 
ual  process  J  consisting  of  successive  propositions  arran- 
ged together,  and  a  succession  of  relative  suggestions  or 
perceptions,  but,  in  itself  considered,  involving  nothing 
which  is  properly  called  an  emotion  or  desire.  This  sin- 
gle circumstance  separates  the  reasoning  power  entirely 
from  the  moral  nature  ;  which,  in  its  appropriate  action, 
never  originates,  like  the  reasoning  power,  ])erceptions  or 
new  intellectual  views,  but  merely  moral  emotions  and 
feelings  of  moral  obligation.  Probably  every  one  can 
say  with  confidence  that  he  is  conscious  of  a  difference 
in  the  moral  emotions  of  approval  and  disapproval,  and 
the  mere  intellectual  perceptions  of  agreement  and  disa- 
greement, which  are  characteristic  of  reasoning.  In  the 
view  of  consciousness,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they 
are  regarded  as  entirely  diverse  in  their  nature,  and  as 
utterly  incapable  of  being  interchanged  or  identified  with 
each  other.  The  moral  feeling  is  one  thing ;  and  the  in 
U  llectual  perception  or  suggestion,  involved  both  in  the 
]n-oce5S  and  the  result  of  reasoning,  is  another. 

Aldiough  the  reasoning  power  and  the  conscience  or 
rr.oral  being  are  thus  distinct  from  each  other  in  theii 
nature,  they  are  closely  connected  in  their  relations,  aji 
has  Ijcen  intimated  already ,  inasmuch  as  the  intellect, 
particularly  the  ratiocinative  or  deductive  nart  of  it  is  tii« 


RILATION  Oi   KEASONING  TO  THL  MOI'.AL  NATURE.      421 

fbuniation  or  basis  of  moral  action.  We  must  first  know 
a  thino- ;  it  miist  first  be  an  object  of  perception  before 
we  can  take  any  moral  cognizance  of  it.  And  this  is  not 
all.  Tlie  moral  cognizance,  as  we  have  already  had  oc- 
casion to  explain,  will  conform  itself  with  great  precision 
to  the  intellectual  cognizance.  That  is  to  say,  it  wiij 
take  new  ground  in  its  decisions,  in  conformity  with  new 
ficts  perceived  Consequently,  we  cannot  rely  perfectly 
on  a  moral  decision  which  is  founded  upon  a  premature 
or  imperfect  knowledge.  The  more  carefully  and  judi- 
ciously we  reason  upon  a  subject,  the  more  thoroughly  we 
understand  it  in  itself  and  its  relations,  the  more  coniiclent- 
ly  may  we  receive  the  estimate  which  the  voice  of  con- 
£cien.3e  makas  of  its  moral  character.  ^ 

()  395.  Illustration  of  the  preceding  section. 

The  views  of  the  preceding  section  may  be  easily  il- 
lustrated. "When,  for  instance,  one  man  is  alleged  to 
have  stolen  the  property  of  another,  we  find  the  con- 
science, as  a  general  thing,  ready  to  discharge  the  duty 
which  the  Author  of  our  nature  has  assigned  to  it;  but  it 
is  sometimes  the  case,  that  its  decisions  are  arrested  and 
jiostponcd,  in  order  to  give  time  for  the  inquiries  and  con- 
clusions of  the  reasoning  power.  Such  inquiries  inform 
us,  perhaps,  that  the  theft  was  long  and  coolly  premedi- 
tiited ;  and  was  committed,  not  only  without  any  special 
temptation  to  it,  but  with  a  full  knowledge  of  the  aggra- 
vation of  the  crime.  In  view  of  this  state  of  things,  con- 
science immediately  passes  its  decision.  Perhaps  our  in- 
quiries inform  us,  tliat  the  theft  was  committed  at  a  time 
of  extreme  want  and  consequent  great  temptation ;  and, 
furthermore;  was  committed  upon  a  species  of  property, 
in  respect  to  which  the  right  of  individual  possession  is 
regai'ded  by  common  consent  as  less  strict  and  exclusive 
than  in  other  cases.  The  conscience  here,  as  in  the 
former  instance,  condemns  the  criminal,  but  probably  with 
a  mitigated  sentence.  On  further  inquiry  we  learn,  that 
although  the  property  was  taken,  and  that,  too,  much  to 
the  damage  of  the  owner,  it  was  taken  wholly  by  mis 
take;  it  was  a  thing  entirely  accidental.  In  this  cas« 
coascience,  adapting  itself  to  'he  ncwly-discovc-ed  cir^ 
"N  N 


422     PtLATjCjN    OF   REASONING    TO   THE   MDRVL    NATlRfi. 

.'luiuftances,  pronounces   the   supposed   tliief  aitogetLw 
guiltless. 

The  conscience,  therefore,  hcwever  distinct  the  two  rnav 
be  in  themselves,  is  aided  and  supported  by  the  vanoiis 
powers  of  perception  and  comparison,  particularly  by  the 
reason.  The  reasoning  power,  how^ev-er  high  the  rank 
which  we  justly  ascribe  to  it,  sustains,  in  this  case  at  leasts 
a  subordinate  position ;  and  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  ser- 
vitor and  handmaid  of  the  moral  power.  And,  more- 
over, the  latter  will  vary  in  exact  accordance,  if  there  are 
no  collateral  disturbing  influences,  with  the  new  facts  and 
the  new  relations,  which  are  from  time  to  time  presented 
by  the  former. — It  is  in  consequence  of  this  close  con- 
nexion, and  the  important  assistance  rendered  to  con- 
science by  reason,  that  they  have  sometimes  been  con- 
foimded  together.  But  it  is  very  essential  to  right  Aaews 
of  the  mind  that  this  erroneous  notion  should  be  correct- 
ed, and  that  the  precise  relation,  existing  betw^een  these 
two  distinct  parts  of  our  mental  nature,  should  be  fullv 
understood. 

^  396.  Of  the  training  or  education  of  the  conscience. 

We  infer,  from  what  has  been  said  in  this  chapter,  that 
there  is  such  a  thing,  philosophically  considered,  as  a 
training  or  education  of  the  conscience.  We  propose  to 
rem.ark  more  fully  on  the  subject  of  moral  education  in 
another  place  ;  but  we  m.ay  properly  refer  to  it  a  moment 
here,  in  connexion  with  the  views  which  have  now  been 
taken.  No  man  is  at  liberty  to  say,  in  regard  to  any 
given  case,  that  I  am  willing  to  refer  this  (^ase  to  con- 
science, and  to  ibide  by  the  decisions  of  conscience, 
without  first  taking  the  pains  to  lay  the  case  fully  and 
fairly  before  the  power  that  is  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  ii 
We 'might  as  w^ell  expect  the  judge  in  a  court  of  civil 
justice  to  give  an  upright  decision  wuthout  facts,  withcut 
evidence,  and  without  law,  as  to  expect  a  correct  deci- 
sion from  the  spiritual  judge,  that  exercises  authority  in 
llie  judgment-seat  of  the  Sensibilities,  without  a  ful  and 
fair  presentment  of  the  facts  by  the  Intellect.  And  when 
we  say  it  is  necessary  to  make  a  frdl  statement  of  tlie 
tkct.'s,  we  inav  fdd  finther,  that  they  arc  to  bo  stated  ntvl 


KELAIiON   OF    ilKASONiN'G    TO    THE   MORAL    NATURE.    4^ 

on.y  m  themselves,  but  also  in  their  relations  and  bear^ 
ings  upon  each  other. — This  is  one  form  of  moral  train- 
ing or  moral  education.  In  other  w  ords,  in  order  to  havr 
tt  right  conscience  in  respect  to  the  vast  multitude  of 
things,  which  are  the  proper  subjects  of  moral  adjudica- 
tion, it  is  necessary  to  extend  the  field  of  our  knowledge ; 
*Q  kiiow  much,  to  think  much,  to  compare  much. 

f)  337.  Of  guilt,  when  a  person  acts  conscientiously. 

The  question  has  sometimes  been  started,  Whether  a 
person  is  in  any  case  to  be  considered  as  guilty,  and  tc 
be  punished  for  actions  done  conscientiously  ;  for  instance, 
when  certain  ignorant  Savages  are  supposed  to  act  con- 
scientiously in  leaving  their  aged  and  infirm  parents  to 
perish.  In  view  of  what  has  been  said  in  this  Chapter, 
we  seem  to  be  prepared  to  answer  this  question  in  the  af- 
firmative. 

We  have  seen  that  the  moral  nature,  in  consequence 
of  its  intimate  connexion  with  the  powers  of  perception 
and  reasoning,  is  in  some  measure  under  our  own  control. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  may  be  enlightened  and  guided  ;  on 
the  other,  darkened  and  led  astray,  and  in  some  cases  be 
made  to  approve  of  actions  of  the  most  unworthy  and 
sinful  kind.  Men,  therefore,  are  to  have  a  right  con- 
science; this  great  and  exalting  principle  is  to  receive, 
and  ought  to  receive,  the  very  first  attention  ;  and  they 
are  accountable  whenever  it  is  neglected.  Otjicrwise  we 
furnish  a  very  easy  and  convenient  excuse  for  all  the  cruel- 
ties of  the  Inquisition,  for  all  the  persecutions  of  the  Prot- 
estants by  the  Catholics,  for  all  the  persecutions  of  the 
Protestants  by  each  other,  for  all  the  acts  of  unkindness 
and  tyranny  w-hich  have  ever  been  exercised  upon  indi- 
viduals and  conununities. 

And  the  position,  that  men  are  accountable  and  guilty 
for  having  a  wrong  conscience  in  proportion  to  their 
means  of  knowledge  and  their  ability  of  rectifying  the 
conscience,  holds  good  in  respect  to  the  most  ignorant  and 
degraded  Savage  tribes,  as  well  as  in  respect  to  civilized 
nations.  It  is  true,  no  individual  ought  to  assume  the 
province  of  judging  in  all  cases  what  that  degree  of 
^x\\\.  is ;  for  no  one  is  competent  to  it.     All  that  is  viCMXi\ 


424  FLELKCS   OF    MORAL    OELIGATION 

to  be  ijss(jrlcd  is,  that  when  persons  feel  an  emotion  oi 
apprjval  in  doing  wrong,  (that  is,  in  doing  what  is  con- 
demned by  the  general  moral  sentiments  of  m.^nkind, 
and  by  the  will  and  law  of  God,)  and  yet  have  within 
Iheir  reach  neglected  sources  of  knowledge,  vdiich,  od 
'xiing  laid  open  to  the  mind,  would  have  caused  ditferent 
feelings,  they  are  criminal  for  such  neglect  of  tlie  infer-- 
mation  before  them,  and  consequently  cannot,  under  such 
circumstances,  be  rendered  otherwise  than  criminal  b^ 
any  mternal  approbation. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FEEIJNGS   OF   MORAL   OBLIGATION. 

(  398.  Feelings  of  moral  oLIigalion  distinct  from  feelings  of  morni  dp 
proval  and  disapproval. 

It  has  been  remarked  in  a  former  chapter,  that  th(} 
Moral  Sensibilities,  or  Conscience,  will  be  ibund,  on  an 
examination  of  its  elements,  to  resolve  itself  into  two 
classes  of  feelings,  viz.,  Moral  Emotions,  and  Obligatory 
feelings  or  feelings  of  Moral  Obligation.  Having  given 
some  account  of  Moral  Emotions,  viz.,  the  feelings  of 
moral  approval  and  disapproval,  which  are  all  the  states 
of  mind  that  pro])erly  come  under  that  head,  we  are  now 
jxepared  to  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  the  second 
class,  viz.,  Obligatory  feelings. 

It  is  proper  to  remark  liere,  that  this  class  of  mental 
states,  considered  as  a  separate  and  distinct  class,  has  re 
ceived  but  little  notice  in  philosophical  systems ;  having 
generally  been  confounded,  under  the  familiar  designa- 
tions of  conscience  and  the  moral  sense,  with  the  moral 
emotions  which  have  already  been  considered.  On  this 
account,  therefore,  and  also  for  the  reason  that  they  hav«- 
an  important  connexion  with  the  actual  operations  aiu! 
"?ith  the  philosophy  of  the  Will,  it  will  be  necess-^ry  t(^. 
examine  them  with  some  degree  of  care. 

5  399.  Proof  of  tlie  existence  of  obligatory  feelings  from  consciousness. 

Our  first  inquiry  relates  to  the  actual  ard  clisti.nrt  ey> 


FEELLNOS    OF    NiOflAI.    OIJI.IGATJ  (N  42t 

iMence  of  '.he  states  of  mind  which  now  come  uiuler  con- 
sideration. The  existence  of  feehngs  of  this  descriptior 
is  evinced,  in  the  first  place,  by  our  own  consciousness. 
We  might  safely  appeal  to  the  internal  conviction  and 
the  recollections  of  any  man  whatever,  and  ask  whethei 
there  have  nol  Leer,  periods  in  the  course  of  his  life  in 
which  he  has  experienced  a  new  and  authoritative  state 
of  mint! ;  a  peculiar,  but  undefmable  species  of  menial 
e?niorceuient,  which  required  him  to  j)erform  some  partic- 
ular act,  and  to  avoid  doing  some  other  act,  even  when 
his  interests  and  his  desires  seemed  to  be  averse  to  the 
requisitions  thus  made  upon  him  1  And  if  so,  we  have 
here  an  instance  of  moral  obligation,  a  feeling  or  senti 
ment  of  duty,  the  precise  thing  which  is  meant  when  we 
say  we  ought  to  do  or  ought  not  to  do. 

Take  a  common  and  simple  illustration.  A  person,  iti 
passing  along  the  streets,  saw  an  old  man  sitting  by  the 
wayside  who  bore  about  him  the  most  convincing  marks 
of  want,  wretchedness,  and  sincerity  in  his  applications 
for  relief;  he  gave  him  bread,  clothing,  and  money,  con- 
scious that  it  was  done,  not  in  view  of  any  personal  inter- 
est or  gratification,  or  of  any  selfish  object  whatever,  but 
under  the  impulse  and  guidance  of  a  peculiar  enforcement 
within,  such  as  we  commonly  have  when  we  speak  of 
doing  our  duty;  and  if  so,  he  then  and  there  had  a  dis 
tinct  knowledge  of  the  moral  sentiment  or  feeling  undei 
consideration.  And  this  knowledge  was  from  Conscious- 
ness. 

^  400.   Further  proof  from  the  conduct  of  men. 

The  existence  of  feelings  of  obligation  is  further  shown 
by  the  general  conduct  of  men. — It  cannot  be  denied  that 
other  motives,  distinct  from  convictions  of  duty,  often  oj)» 
erate  up.on  them.  Their  desires,  hopes,  fears,  sympathies, 
their  present  and  future  interests,  all  have  an  eiibct.  But 
it  would  certainly  argue  an  evil  opinion  of  human  nature 
altogether  unwarranted,  to  maintain  that  they  are  never 
governed  by  motives  of  a  more  exalted  kind,  [n  a  mul« 
titude  of  cases  they  are  found  to  perform  what  is  incum- 
bent upon  them  in  opposition  to  their  fears,  in  opposition 
to  their  sympathies,  and  their  apparent  interests.  Diflfer 
Nn2 


426  IREL.TCS    OP    MORAL    OBLIGATION. 

cut  persons  will  undoubtedly  estimate  the  araouiit  of  in* 
terested  and  selfish  motives  as  greater  or  less,  according 
as  a  greater  or  less  portion  of  the  good  or  evil  of  human 
nature  has  come  within  their  own  cognizance;  but  it  i.i 
impossible,  after  a  cautious  and  candici  review  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  human  action,  to  exclude  entirely  the  elements 
of  uprightness  and  honour.  If  there  is  any  truth  in  his- 
trry;  there  have  always  been  found,  even  in  the  most  cor- 
rupt periods  of  society,  upright  and  honourable  men.  And 
if  we  are  at  liberty  to  infer  men's  character  from  their 
actions,  as  assuredly  we  are,  we  may  assert  with  confi- 
dence that  there  are  such  at  the  present  time.  But  a  man 
of  true  uprightness  and  honour  is  one  who  acts  from  tho 
sentiment  of  duty,  the  feeling  of  moral  obligation,  in  dis 
tinction  from  motives  of  an  inferior  kind. 

^  401.  Further  proof  from  language  and  literature. 

The  existence  of  obligatory  feelings  is  further  proved, 
not  only  by  each  one's  consciousness,  and  by  the  conduct 
of  men  generally,  but  by  language  and  literature.  In 
most  languages,  and  probably  in  all,  there  are  terms  ex- 
pressive of  obligation  or  a  sentiment  of  duty.  No  account 
could  be  given  of  the  progress  of  society,  and  of  the  situ- 
atroii  and  conduct  of  individuals,  without  making  use  of 
such  terms.  If  the  words  rectitude,  crime,  uprightness, 
virtue,  merit,  vice,  dem.erit,  right,  wrong,  ought,  obliga- 
tion, duty,  and  others  of  like  import,  were  struck  out  from 
the  English  tongue,  (and  the  same  might  be  said  of  other 
languages,)  it  would  at  once  be  found  unequal  to  the  ex- 
pression of  the  phenomena  wdiich  are  constantly  occurring 
m  the  affairs  of  men.  Now,  as  these  terms  occur,  it  is 
rational  to  suppose  that  they  intimite  something,  that  thoy 
have  a  meaning,  that  they  express  a  reality.  But  it  doea 
not  appear  how  this  can  he  said  of  them,  unless  we  admit 
the  actual  existence  of  obligatory  feelings. 

Turning  our  attention  from  single  words  and  phrases, 
if  we  enter  into  an  eximination  of  the  literature  of  a  lan- 
guage, w^e  shall  come  to  the  fame  result. — A  great  por- 
tion of  every  nation's  literature  is  employed  in  giving  ex- 
pression and  emphasis  to  moral  principles  and  sentimentSi 
Fbey  firxl  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  most  valuable  spec 


FEELINGS    OF    MORAL    ODLISATION.  427 

ciiations,  not  of  professed  moralists  merely,  but  of  histori- 
ans, poets,  orators,  and  legislators.  But  their  frequen? 
mtroduction  would  seem  to  be  altogether  misplaced,  un« 
suitable,  and  unmeaning,  if  there  were  no  real  and  per- 
manent distinction  between  virtue  and  vice,  between  the 
acred  requisitions  of  duty  and  those  of  mere  personal  in 
cerest. 

V  402.  Further  proof  from  the  necessity  of  these  feelings. 

And  in  connexion  with  the  observations  which  have 
been  brought  forward,  we  may  further  ask.  What  w^ould 
men  be,  or  \>hat  would  society  be,  without  the  basis  oi 
moral  obligation  ?  There  must  be  somewhere  a  founda 
tion  of  duty.  It  does  not  appear  how  the  bond  which 
unites  neighbourhoods  and  states  can  be  maintained,  with 
any  requisite  degree  of  permanency  and  strength,  without 
something  of  this  kind.  Annihilate  this  part  of  our  con- 
Btitution,  and  would  not  civil  society-  be  dissolved  ?  Would 
not  violence,  and  wrafn,  and  utter  confusion  immediately 
succeed  ?  The  natural  desire  of  society,  the  sympathies, 
and  the  selfish  interests  of  our  nature  might  do  something 
by  way  of  diminishing  these  evil  results,  but  could  not 
wholly  prevent  them.  Willi  the  dislocation  of  the  great 
controlling  principles  which  regulate  the  action  of  the 
moral  world,  there  would  soon  be  an  utter  confusion  in 
the  movements  of  society,  and  all  the  unspeakable  evils 
attendant  on  such  a  state  of  things. 

^  403.  Feelings  of  obligation  simple  and  n:.\  susceptible  of  definition. 

In  view  of  what  has  been  said,  we  assert  v;ith  confi- 
dence that  feelings  of  moral  obligation,  or  obligatory 
feelings,  in  distinction  from  the  antecedent  acts  of  the 
Moral  Sensibility,  which  consist  in  mere  approval  and 
disapproval,  actually  have  an  existence.  In  looking  into 
their  nature,  in  distinction  from  the  mere  fact  of  their  ex- 
istence, although  we  do  not  flatter  ourselves  Avilh  being 
able,  b)'  a  mere  verbal  statement,  to  give  a  satisfactory 
notion  of  them,  Ave  would  direct  the  attention  to  some 
characteristic  marks.  And  th.e  first  observaiion  to  be 
made  is,  that  these  stales  of  mind  are  simple.  We  can- 
not reso-7c  them  into  parts,  as  wj  can  any  complex  statf 


428  KKELWGS   OF    MORAL    OBMGATION. 

of  mind.  And,  as  a  necessary  consequence  of  this,  Ihe) 
are  not  susceptible  of  definition.  Still  we  cannot  admit 
that  this  simplicity,  and  the  consequent  inabilityjo  define 
them,  renders  men  ignorant  of  their  nature.  It  is  true 
that  the  man  -who  has  never  experienced  the  sentiment  of 
obligation  in  his  own  bosom,  can  have  no  better  meai;j 
of  knowing  it  from  the  descriptions  of  others  than  th« 
dind  man  can  have  for  understanding  the  nature  of  the 
colours  of  the  rainbow.  But  su.h  a  case  is  hardly  a  sup- 
posable  one ;  among  all  the  tribes  of  men,  and  amid  all 
the  varieties  of  human  degradation,  it  Vv'ill  probably  not 
be  found  to  exist ;  and  we  may,  therefore,  say  with  con- 
fidence, that  every  man  knows  what  the  feeling  of  obli- 
gation is,  not  less  than  he  knows  what  the  feeling  of  joy, 
of  sorrow,  and  of  approval  is.  In  other  words,  men  have 
as  ready  and  clear  an  idea  of  it  as  of  any  other  simple 
notion  or  feeling., 

^  404.  They  are  susceptible  of  different  degrees. 
In  obtaining  this  knowdedge,  however,  which  evidenti;y 
cannot  be  secured  to  us  by  any  mere  process  of  defining, 
we  must  consult  our  consciousness.  We  are  required  to 
turn  the  mind  inward  on  itself,  and  to  scrutinize  the  pro- 
cess of  interior  operation  on  the  various  occasions  of  en- 
durance, trial,  and  action,  which  so  often  intersect  the 
Eaths  of  life.  The  same  consciousness  which  gives  us  a 
nowledge  of  the  existence  of  the  feeling  and  of  its  gen- 
eral nature,  assures  us,  furthermore,  that  it  exists  in  vari- 
ous degrees.  This  fact  may  be  illustrated  by  remarks 
formerly  made  in  reference  to  another  state  of  mind.  The 
word  belief  is  the  name  of  a  simple  mental  state;  but  no 
one  doubts  that  belief  exists  in  different  degrees,  which 
we  express  by  a  number  of  terms,  such  as  presumption 
probability,  high  probability,  and  certainty.  In  like  man 
ner,  the  f  seling  of  obligation  may  evidently  exist  in  vari- 
ous degrees,  and  we  often  express  this  variety  of  degrees 
by  different  terms  and  phrases,  such  as  moral  inducement, 
shght  or  strong  inducement,  imperfect  obligation,  perfect 
obligation,  &c. 

$  405.  Of  their  authoritative  and  enforcing  nature. 

It  maj  be  remarked  further  in  respect  'o  olligaiory 


KEELLN3S    OF    MORAL    UBLIOATION  42!:* 

letlings,  that  they  always  imply  action,  sometliiiig  to  be 
done.  And  again,  tliey  never  exist  except  in  tnosc  case^i 
where  not  only  action,  but  effective  action^  is  possible,  or 
Is  supposed  to  be  so.  We  never  feel  under  moral  obliga 
•ion  to  do  anything  which  we  are  convinced,  at  the  same 
Ume,  is  beyond  our  power.  It  is  within  these  hmits  (he 
feeling  arises ;  and,  while  we  cannot  define  it,  w^e  are  able 
to  intimate^  though  somewhat  im{)erfectly,  another  char 
acteristic.  What  we  mean  will  be  understood  by  a  ref- 
erence to  the  w^ords  enforcement,  constraint,  or  compul- 
sion. Every  one  is  conscious  that  there  is  something  in 
the  nature  of  feelings  of  moral  obligation  approaching  to 
the  character  of  enforcement  or  compulsion  \  yet  not  by 
any  means  in  the  material  sense  of  those  terms.  There  is 
no  enforcement  analogous  to  that  which  may  be  applied 
^o  the  body,  and  which  may  be  made  irresistible. 

The  apostle  Paul  says,  "  The  love  of  Christ  constrain' 
eth  us."  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  Merely  that  the 
mercy  of  Clu'ist,  exhibited  in  the  salvation  of  men,  exci- 
ted such  a  sentiment  of  obligation,  that  they  found  in 
themselves  a  great  unwillingness  to  resist  its  suggestions, 
and  were  determined  to  go  forth  proclaiming  that  mercy, 
and  urging  all  men  to  accept  it.  And  it  is  in  reference 
to  this  state  of  things  we  so  frequently  assert  that  we  are 
bound,  that  w^e  are  obliged,  or  even  that  we  are  compell- 
ed to  pursue  a  particular  course  in  preference  to  another 
course ;  expressions  which,  in  their  original  import,  inti- 
mate the  existence  of  a  feeling  which  is  fitted  by  its  very 
nature  sti'ongly  to  control  our  volition.  But,  although 
these  expressions  point  to  this  trait  of  the  feeling,  they  do 
it  but  imperfectly  and  indistinctly,  and  consciousness  alone 
can  gi  ve  a  full  understanding  of  it. 

^  406.  Fee'.\ng3  o,  oj.igation  differ  from  those  of  mere  appioval  tnd 
disapproval. 

It  13  possible  that  the  question  may  be  started  why  we 
do  not  cla.ss  these  feelings  with  Emotions,  particularly 
those  of  a  moral  kind.  And  recognising  the  propriety  of 
avoiding  an  increase  of  classes  where  it  is  not  obviously 
called  for,  w^e  shall  endeavour  to  say  something,  in  addi- 
tion to  what  has  already  b'ecn  intiuiated,  in  answer  to  tliw 


430  FKELlNGb    or    MOUAf-    (VE1.1CATIOI*. 

question.— We  have  not  classed  the  mental  states  undo 
examination  ^Yith  Emotions,  in  the  hrst  place,  becausfl 
they  do  not  appear  to  be  of  that  transitory  nature  which 
seems  to  be  characteristic  of  all  emotions.  Ordinarily 
they  do  not  dart  into  the  soul  with  the  same  rapidity, 
shining  up,  and  then  di'^appearing,  like  the  sudden  light- 
ning in  the  clouds ;  but ,  taking  their  position  more  slowly 
and  gradually,  they  remain,  like  the  sun,  bright  and  per- 
manent. In  the  course  of  an  hour  a  person  may  experi- 
ence hundreds,  and  even  thousands,  of  emotrons  of  joy  oi 
grief,  of  beauty  or  sublimity,  and  vtjious  other  kinds. 
They  come  and  go,  return  and  depart  again,  in  constant 
succession  and  with  very  frequent  changes  ;  but  it  prob- 
ably will  not  be  pretended  that  the  feelings  of  duty,  which 
are  destined  to  govern  man's  conduct,  and  which  consti- 
tute his  most  important  principles  of  action,  are  of  such  a 
rapid,  variant,  and  evanescent  nature.  A  man  feels  the 
sentiment  of  duty  now,  and  it  is  reasonable  to  anticipate, 
unless  the  facts  presented  to  his  mind  shall  essentially  al- 
ter, that  he  will  feel  the  same  to-morrow,  next  week, 
next  month,  and  next  yea^-.  He  may  as  well  think  of 
altering  and  alienating  the  nature  of  the  soul  itself,  as  of 
eradicating  these  feelings  when  they  have  once  taken 
root,  so  long  as  the  objects  to  which  they  relate  remain 
the  same  in  the  mind's  view. 

it  407.  Feelings  of  obligation  have  particular  reference  to  the  future. 

A  second  reason  for  not  classing  feelings  of  obhgation 
with  emotions,  particularly  moral  ones,  is  the  fact  that 
obligatory  sentiments  have  special  reference  to  the  future. 
Moral  emotions  are  of  a  peculiar  kind ;  they  have  a  char- 
acter of  their  own,  which  is  ascertained  by  consciousness ; 
hut  they  merely  pronounce  upon  the  character  of  objects 
and  actions  that  are  either  past  or  present ;  upon  the  right 
or  wrong  of  what  has  actually  taken  place  in  time  past, 
or  is  taking  place  at  the  present  moment ;  with  the  smgk 
exception  of  hypothetical  cases,  which  are  brought  before 
the  mind  for  a  moral  judgment  to  be  passed  upon  them. 
But  even  in  these  cases,  as  far  as  the  action  of  the  moral 
eonse  is  concerned,  the  objects  of  contemplation  are  in 
ttfect  present      The  conscience  pasties  its  judgment  upon 


VEELINuS    OF    WORAL    OBLIUATION.  4i5J 

the  objects  in  cheniselves  :onsiderecl :  and  that  h  all      ll 
poes  no  t'urthor. 

But  it  clearly  seems  d  be  different  with  the  feelings 
under  consideration.  The  states  of  mind  involving;  obli- 
(ration  and  duty  have  reference  to  the  future ;  to  some- 
thing which  is  either  to  be  performed,  or  the  performance 
of  which  is  to  be  avoided.  They  bind  us  to  what  is  to 
come.  They  can  have  no  possible  existence,  except  in 
connexion  with  what  is  to  be  done,  either  in  the  inward 
feeling  or  the  outward  effort.  The  past  is  merged  in  eter- 
nity, and  no  longer  furnishes  a  place  for  action.  Obliga 
tion  and  duty  cannot  reach  it,  and  it  is  given  over  to  ret 
ribution. 

0  408.   Feelings  of  obligation  subsequent  in  time  to  the  moidl  emolioni 
of  approval  and  disapproval. 

Another  and  third  important  circumstance  to  be  taken 
mto  view  in  making  out  the  distinction  under  our  notice, 
is,  that  the  sentiments  or  feelings  of  obligation  arc  always 
subseauent  in  point  of  time  to  moral  emotions,  and  can 
not  possibly  exist  until  preceded  by  them.  The  state- 
ment is  susceptible  of  illustration  in  this  way.  Some 
f'.mplicated  state  of  things,  involving  moral  considera 
tions,  is  presented  before  us ;  we  inquire  and  examine  into 
it ;  emotions  of  approval  or  disapproval  then  arise.  And 
this  is  all  that  takes  place,  if  we  ourselves  have,  in  no 
way  whatever,  any  direct  and  active  concern,  either  pies- 
ent  or  future.  But  if  it  be  otherwise,  the  moral  emotions 
are  immediately  succeeded  by  a  distinct  and  imperative 
feeling ;  the  sentiment  of  obligation,  which  binds  us,  as  if 
it  were  the  voice  of  God  speaking  in  the  soul,  to  acT  or 
not  to  act,  to  do  or  not  to  do,  to  favour  or  to  oppose. 

ilow  common  a  thing  it  is  for  a  pereon  to  say  that  he 
fi>ls  no  moral  obligation  to  do  a  thing,  because  he  does 
not  approve  it ;  or,  on  the  contrary,  that,  approving  any 
proposed  course,  he  feels  under  obligation  to  pursue  it ; 
language  which  undoubtedly  means  something,  and  which 
implies  a  distinction  between  the  mere  moral  emotion  and 
the  feeling  of  obligation  ;  and  which  tends  to  prove  tb#. 
prevalence  of  the  common  belief,  that  obligation  is  subse< 
ijuent  t'\  and  dependent  on,  approval  or  '.lisapprovaL     : 


A32  FEELINGS    OF    MOIUL    OBLIGATION. 

On  lookii  g  at  the  subject  in  these  pouits  of  view,  we  caji- 
«ot  come  to  the  conclusion  to  rank  leeUngs  of  obiigation 
mih.  moral  emotions,  or  with  any  other  emotions,  but  ar« 
.nduced  to  assign  them  a  distinct  place.  But  it  is  not 
(surprising,  on  the  whole,  that  moral  emotions  are  oftcji 
coTifounded  with  them,  when  we  consider  the  invariable 
connexion  between  the  two  just  spoken  of,  and  when  abo 
sfe  consider  the  imperfection  of  language,  which  not  un- 
frrquently  applies  the  same  terms  to  both  classes  of  men- 
Hi  states. 

§  409.  Feelings  of  obligation  differ  from  desire:. 

For  the  reasons  which  have  now  been  stated,  feelin^i's 
of  obligation  are  not  classed  with  Emotions.  We  ai'e 
p.ext  asked,  perhaps,  why  they  are  not  classed  under  the 
general  head  of  Desires.  And,  in  answering  this  ques- 
tion, we  say  in  the  first  place,  that  consciousness  clearly 
points  out  a  difference.  It  is  believed  that  few  matters 
come  within  the  reach  and  cognizance  of  consciousness 
Vv'hich  can  be  more  readily  decided  upon  than  the  differ- 
ence between  our  desires  and  our  feelings  of  obligation 
We  admit  that,  in  the  particular  of  their  fixedness  or  per- 
manency, and  also  of  their  relation  to  the  future,  the  lat- 
ter closely  approach  to  the  characteristics  of  the  former  j 
and  yet  a  little  internal  examination  will  detect  a  distinc- 
tion between  them  which  is  marked  and  lasting. 

(2.)  We  may  not  only  considt  our  own  consciousness 
in  this  matter,  but  may  derive  infoi-rahtion  from  a  notice 
of  the  outward  conduct  of  men.  In  speaking  of  men's 
conduct,  we  not  unfrequently  make  a  distinction ;  and 
we  attribute  it  sometimes  to  the  mere  influence  of  their 
iesires  or  wishes,  and  at  other  times  to  the  predominance 
of  a  sense  of  duty,  which  is  only  anothei-  name  for  a  sen- 
timent or  impulse  within,  which  is  morally  obligatoiy 
Bu*  there  would  evidently  be  no  propriety  in  this  distinc- 
tion, if  desire  and  feelings  of  duty  were  the  same  thing  > 
an  :l  it  would  certainly  be  premature  and  unjust  to  charge 
nitn  with  universally  maldng  such  a  distinction  when 
>Jier5  are  no  grounds  for  it. 

^  410.  Further  considerations  on  this  si.bject. 

If  there  is  mi  a  fixed,  permanent,  and  radical  distia 


UMx-^ini.MrrY  of  action  in  the  moral  sensirilities.  43i 

Uiii  bet\AC'en  desires  and  feelings  of  obligation,  thci.  there 
IS  an  utter  failure  of  any  basis  of  morality,  either  ii  fact 
or  in  theory.  It  will  readily  be  conceded  that  morality 
implies  a  will,  a  power  of  choice  and  determination.  But 
tlie  mere  moral  emotions,  viz.,  of  approval  and  disapprO' 
val,  do  not  of  themselves  reach  the  "VVili.  They  operate 
on  the  Will  through  the  feehngs  of  obligation ;  that  is  to 
eay,  they  are  always  succeeded  by  the  latter  feelings  be- 
fore men  are  led  to  action.  All  other  emotions  operate 
through  the  Desires.  So  that  the  wdll,  in  making  up  its 
determinations,  takes  immediate  cognizance  of  only  two 
classes  of  mental  states,  viz..  Desires  and  Feelings  of  ob- 
ligation. But  brute  animals,  as  a  general  statement,  have 
all  the  desires  that  men  have ;  we  mean  all  those  modifi- 
cations of  feeling  w^hich  have  been  classed  under  that 
general  head,  viz.,  instincts,  appetites,  propensities,  the 
various  forms  of  affection,  as  resentment,  love,  the  parent- 
al affection,  &c.  But  still,  being  evidently  destitute  of 
all  feelings  of  obligation,  we  never  speak  or  think  of  them 
as  possessing  a  moral  character.  Vv  e  never  applaud  them 
for  doing  their  duty,  nor  punish  thejn  for  neglecting  its 
performance.  Our  treatment  of  them  pioceeds  on  alto- 
gether different  principles.  And  it  would  be  the  same 
with  men  if  they  were  wholly  destitute  of  feelings  of  moral 
oblio-ation,  and  had  no  motives  of  action  but  the  various 
forms  of  desire.  They  could  never,  in  that  case,  be  con- 
sidered morally  accountable.  They  w^ould  be  without 
reward  when  they  went  right,  and  wdthout  rebuke  when 
'hey  went  WTOng. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

3NirORMITY   OF    ACTION    IN   THE   MORAL    SENSIBILITnSS. 

\  417.  Of  uniforn'^.ity  in  the  decisions  of  the  moral  nature  and  the  pnj» 
ciple  on  which  it  is  regulated. 

The  two  classes  of  feelings  which  have  been  consider 
ed,  viz.,  moral  emotions,  by  means  of  which  we  approve 
?ind  d'sapprove  of  actions,  and  the  subsequent  feehngs  oi 
Oo 


434  UNIFORMITY    OF    ACTION    IN    Tilt 

mora.  obJigAtion,  embrace  all  the  slates  ol  mind  which 
are  properly  and  strictly  included  under  the  head  of  the 
Moral  Sensibilities ;  although  there  are  a  number  of  col- 
lateral or  incidental  inquiries,  some  of  which  are  worthy 
of  notice.  One  of  the  most  interesting  of  these  inqui- 
ries relates  to  the  Uniformity  of  moral  decisions. — In  en 
tering  upon  the  subject  of  the  Uniformity  of  the  decisioiu^ 
of  our  Moral  Nature,  we  remark,  in  the  first  place,  thai 
there  are  two  kinds  of  uniformity,  viz.,  uniformity  in  fac  t 
or  principle,  and  uniformity  in  manifestation  or  appear- 
ance. Uniformity  in  principle,  which  is  the  most  impor- 
tant view  of  the  subject,  necessarily  implies  a  rule  or  law 
by  means  of  which  the  uniformity,  which  is  alleged  to  ex- 
ist, may  be  measured  and  known.  And  the  rule  or  law 
upon  which  the  uniformity  of  the  moral  nature  is  unques- 
tionably based,  is,  that  its  decisions  (excepting  those  ex 
tremely  perverted  acts  which  may  justly  be  supposed  to 
imply  a  state  of  moral  alienation  or  insanity,  and  which 
do  not  properly  come  into  consideration  here)  will  in  all 
cases  conform  to  the  facts  percevoed  ;  in  other  words,  will 
conform  to  the  facts  and  their  relations,  as  they  exist  in 
the  view  of  the  intellect. 

Estimated  by  this  law,  we  can  hardly  entertain  a  doubt 
that  the  decisions  of  conscience  may  justly  be  regarded 
as  being,  at  the  bottom,  uniform  throughout  the  world. 
It  is  not  true,  as  some  seem  to  suppose,  that  nature  ha& 
established  one  code  of  morals  for  civilized  and  another 
for  Savage  nati(3ns ;  one  law  of  rectitude  on  the  banks  of 
the  Thames,  and  pjiother  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges  j 
but  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  in  every  nation  and  in  eve- 
ry clime,  on  the  borders  of  every  river  and  on  the  decliv- 
ities of  every  mountain,  she  utters  the  same  voice,  announ- 
ces the  same  distinctions,  and  proclaims  the  unchangea  • 
bleness  of  her  requisitions. 

{  412.  The  nature  of  conscience,  considered  as  a  uniform  principle  o 
uclion,  requires  that  it  should  vary  in  its  decisions  with  circumstances. 

It  is  well  known,  that  one  of  the  greatest  and  the  only 
formidable  objection  which  has  been  brought  against  the 
doctrine  of  a  connatural  Moral  Sensibility  or  Consc  ience, 
is  a  want  of  uniformity  in  its  decisions ;  in  oliier  word'?. 


MORAL    SENSIBILITIES  43^ 

that  it  approves  at  one  time  and  in  one  place  what  ,  t  coft 
flemns  at  another  time  and  place.     The  remarks  which 
have  been  made  enable  us  to  meet  this  objection  fairlv 
and  satisfactorily.     We  admit  that  there  is  a  want  of  that 
kind  of  uniformity  which,  by  way  of  distinction,  we  have 
denominated" uniformity  in  manifestation  or  appearance;, 
but  it  is  not  true  (with  the  exception  of  those  extreme  / 
perversions  which  come  under  the.  denomination  of  mor-  [ 
a)  insanity  or  alienation)  that  there  is  a  wr>nt  of  uniform 
ty  in  fact  or  principle.     It  is  the  latter  kind  of  uniformity 
only  which  we  are  desirous  to  witness  as  an  attribute  of 
the  conscience.     A  uniformity  of  decision,  based  upon 
any  other  view,  would  be  disastrous  to  its  own  authority. 
In  meeting  the  objection,  therefore,  which  has  been  refer- 
red to,  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  show  that  the  moral  sense- 
or  conscience  conforms  to  its  own  law ;  in  other  words, 
is  uniform  in  its  action,  relatively  to  the  facts  that  ar<^ 
placed  before  it. 

And  our  first  remark  here  is,  that  the  nature  of  con- 
science itself  involves,  that  it  must  vary  in  its  decision' 
in  accordance  ^vith  a  variation  or  change  of  circumstan 
'zes.  And  the  unportant  law  of  its  own  uniformity  no' 
only  permits  this,  but  requires  it.  As  its  uniformity  exist? 
in  relation  to  the  facts  perceived,  and  involves  the  uni 
formity  or  sameness  of  those  facts,  it  follows  that  a  changr 
in  the  facts  and  their  relations  will  be  attended  by  ? 
change  in  the  moral  cognizance.  The  decisions  of  con- 
science, therefore,  although  erected  upon  a  basis  of  uni- 
formity, and  although,  in  fact,  uniform  in  reference  to  the 
principle  which  has  been  laid  down,  are  nevertheless  in 
their  manifestations  sometimes  exceedingly  diverse ;  like 
the  multiplied  forms  of  the  kaleidoscope,  which,  although 
they  always  exist  in  accordance  with  fixed  optical  jnin- 
ciples,  are  susceptible  of  almost  every  possible  variety 
—Going  on  the  supposition,  therefore,  that  the  gener- 
al uniformity  of  the  decisions  of  conscience  is  understood 
and  acknowledged,  we  proceed  now  to  give  some  account 
of  its  variations.  And,  in  doing  this,  shall  endeavour  to 
show  that  they  all  take  place  in  endre  consistency  with 
the  permanent  principles  of  its  own  nature ;  in  other 
words,  that  the  uniformity  is  real,  diA  diat  the  JeviatiorL" 
are  merely  apparent 


436  UMFORMITY    OF    ACliON    IN    THE 

^413    Diversities  m  moral  decisions  dependent  on  diffcre.ices  "i   ,ii« 
amount  ot  knowledge. 

Diversities  in  the  decisions  of  conscience  will  depend, 
in  the  firs';  place,  on  differences  in  the  amount  of  knowl- 
edge, whether  such  differences  in  knowledge  be  owing  to 
differences  of  intellective  power  or  to  any  other  cause 
in  othei  words,  the  conscience  may  be  led  astray,  so  far 
as  to  decide  other\\ise  than  it  would  under  other  circum- 
stances, either  by  a  want  of  facts,  or  by  a  false  percep- 
tion and  estimate  of  facts.  This  simple  statement,  if 
properly  applied,  can  hardly  fail  to  explain  numerous 
mistaken  moral  judgments,  which  have  been  adduced  in 
opposition  to  the  doctrine  of  a  conscience. 

We  may  illustrate  this  view  of  the  subject  by  a  case  of 
this  kind.  Two  men  are  required  to  give  an  opinion  on 
some  question  which  involves  moral  duty.  The  question 
we  will  suppose  to  be,  whether  it  would  be  right,  in  a 
supposed  case,  to  attempt  a  revolution  in  the  civil  govern- 
ment. Of  these  two  individuals  one  wdll  pronounce  it  to 
be  right,  the  other  will  pronounce  it  to  be  wrong, — It  is 
admitted  that  we  have  here  a  manifested  or  apparent  de- 
viation in  the  moral  action.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  un- 
questionably the  fact,  that  it  is  not  owdng  to  a  difference 
of  structure  in  their  moral  nature,  but  rather  to  a  differ- 
ence in  their  perceptive  and  comparing  powers. 

The  one  who  pronounces  the  attempt  to  be  right,  m 
»;onsequence  of  his  greater  reach  of  thought,  is  able  to 
foresee,  after  the  first  convulsive  struggles,  the  subsidence 
of  the  angry  passions  into  a  state  of  permanent  quiet,  and 
\he  reorganization  of  the  convulsed  frame  of  society  into 
greater  strength  and  beauty.  With  these  views  he  thinks 
it  right  to  attempt  to  introduce  a  change  into  the  govern- 
ment of  the  country.  The  other,  whose  intellectual  vision 
'S  more  limited,  unable  to  extend  the  perceptive  eye  into 
the  future,  sees  only  the  evils  of  the  present  moment ;  the 
discord  and  clamour,  the  breaking  up  of  o\<\  habits  and 
associations,  the  agony,  and  the  blood  With  these  views 
lie  thinks  it  would  be  wrong  to  attempt  the  change  in 
quesdon.  The  moral  nature,  in  each  instance,  pronoun- 
ces according  to  the  light  which  is  placed  before  it ;  and 
in  end'  case  does  what  it  would  naturally  be  exp'jct-ccl 


MORAL    SENSIBILITIES  437 

The  want  of  uniformity  in  this  case,  so  far  from  Leing 
.12)  evidence,  as  some  seem  to  suppose,  thit  there  are  no 
j^ood  grounds  for  the  doctrine  of  a  moral  sense,  is  rather 
an  e\idence  of  the  contrary.  Ahhongh  there  is  not  an 
external  or  apparent  uniformity,  there  is  a  uniformity  ia 
pi  inciple ;  that  is  to  say,  the  conscience  in  each  case  de- 
cides according  to  the  facts  before  it,  which  is  the  only 
proper  ground  of  decision. 

^  414.   Of  diversities  in  moral  judgment  in  connexion  with  differcrxcs 
in  civil  and  political  institutions. 

We  may  reasonable  expect,  in  the  second  place,  to  find 
diversities  and  occasional  oppositions  of  moral  judgment, 
in  connexion  with  differences  in  civil  and  political  insti- 
tutions.— This  statement  might  be  illustrated  by  numerous 
instances  from  history.  The  objectors  to  a  moral  nature 
maintain,  that  theft  or  the  unlawfully  taking  of  the  prop- 
erty of  another  is  a  crime ;  and  that  conscience,  if  it  ex- 
ists as  a  part  of  the  mental  constitution,  will  not  tali  *o 
condemn  it  universally.  And,  in  connexion  with  this,  they 
bring  forward  the  fact,  that  in  some  countries  theft,  in- 
stead  of  being  condemned  cS  it  should  be,  prevails  very 
tnuch,  and  is  scarcely  regarded  as  a  crime. 

Under  this  head  we  may  properly  notice,  in  particular, 
he  statement  made  by  travellers,  that  some  Savage  tribes 
are  very  much  given  "to  theft.  Captain  Cook  informs  us, 
that  when  he  visited  the  Sandwich  Islands  in  177S,  the 
inhabitants  exhibited  a  thie\'ish  disposition,  taking  every- 
thing which  came  within  their  reach.  In  explanation  of 
this  statement,  it  is  to  be  remarked,  first,  that  the  idea  of 
theft  involves  the  idea  of  propert)' ;  and  that  the  right  of 
property  is  more  or  less  strict  and  absolute  in  different 
countries  and  under  different  political  systems.  In  con- 
sequence of  the  richness  of  their  soil  and  the  favom-able 
nature  of  their  climate,  there  is  no  question  that  the  right 
of  property  was  held  by  the  Sandwich  Islanders  to  be  les? 
strict  and  exclusive  than  it  is  found  to  be  in  less  produc- 
tive countries.  The  familiar  distinction  of  meimi  and 
TUVMj  of  our  own  and  another's,  was  not  so  clearly  drawn 
and  so  strenuoasly  adhered  to  as  it  generally  is  in  ci'V'ili* 
•s:ed  naH'as;  and  the  probabilitv  is,  that  nearly  all  thf 


438  UNIFORMITY  01''  a:tion  in  thk 

raiious  forms  of  property  were  held  in  common.  As  iJie 
right  of  property  was  in  their  estimation  less  strict,  the  vio- 
lation of  it  was  less  criminal ;  and  they  did  not  look  upon 
ine  offender  with  that  decided  disapprobation  which  in 
ether  places  would  attach  to  him  in  taking  the  same  arti- 
cles. They  probably  regarded  him  with  nearly  the  same 
leelings  wath  which  we  regard  a  man  w^ho,  in  passing 
through  an  orchard  that  belongs  to  us,  takes  a  few  apples, 
^r  who  occasionally  drawls  water  from  our  w-ell.  He  takes 
A  property,  it  is  true ;  but  as  the  right  of  property  in 
those  cases  is  held  by  common  consent  to  be  a  loose  or 
mitigated  one,  we  do  not  call  it  theft  nor  regard  it  as 
criminal. 

And  further,  in  looking  at  Captain  Cook's  account  a 
little  more  minutely,  we  see  evadence  in  the  narration  it- 
self of  the  correctness  of  this  view.  "  At  first,"  he  says, 
"  on  entering  the  ship,  they  endeavoured  to  steal  every 
thing  they  came  near,  or  rather  to  take  it  openly,  as  ivhat  wc 
either  should  not  resent  or  not  hinder.'^  In  another  place 
he  says,  in  explanation  of  their  conduct,  "  they  thought 
they  had  a  right  to  everything  they  could  lay  their 
hands  on."  We  learn  also,  that,  after  they  were  made 
to  understand  the  English  notions  of  property,  and  the 
penalty  attached  to  a  violation  of  ;t,  they  soon  laid  aside 
such  conduct. — It  is  obvious,  if  they  had  attached  the 
same  ideas  to  taking  property  which  we  attach  to  steal- 
ing, they  would  not  have  taken  it  openly,  as  much  so  as 
if  they  supposed  they  either  had  a  right  to  it,  or  that  the 
owners  would  not  resent  or  hinder  their  taking  it. 

6  41S.   Of  diversities  and  obliquities  of  moral  judgment  in  connexion 
with  speculative  opinions. 

We  may  reasonably  expect,  in  the  third  place,  that 
♦here  will  be  diversities  of  moral  judgment,  based  upon 
diversities  in  important  speculative  opinions  in  morals, 
politic  s,  and  religion,  and,  in  truth,  upon  almcst  any  sub- 
ject.— Some  years  since  the  speculative  opinion  seems  to 
have  been  prevalent  through  nearly  the  whole  of  the  civ- 
ilized world,  that  the  Negroes  were  an  inferior  race,  lo- 
cated in  the  graduation  of  rank  somewhere  between  the 
bnite  animals  and  man.  This  was  the  speculative  behef 
And  what  has  been  the  conseauence  ?      The  fires  of  diesin^ 


MORAL    SENSIBILITlEi?.  43S 

latiojj  Lave  bce-i  kindled  upon  the  coast  of  Atiica  ,  villa- 
ges and  to^s'ns  have  been  destroyed ;  a  continual  war  has 
been  kept  up  among  the  native  tribes ;  and  probably  for- 
ty  millions  of  persons  have  been  torn  away  from  their  na- 
live  country,  and  consigned  to  perpetual  slavery. 

While  this  erroneous  speculative  opinion  held  posses- 
siun,  to  a  considerable  extent,  of  the  minds  of  rrien  the 
authority  of  conscience  was  paralyzed ;  her  voice,  ;f  it 
was  heard  at  all,  was  feeble,  and  scarcely  excited  no- 
tice. And  why  should  it  be  otherwise  ?  If  the  Negroes 
are  truly  an  inferior  race  to  white  men,  darkened  in  intel- 
lect and  imbruted  in  the  affections,  incapable  of  taking 
care  of  themselves,  and  still  more  of  any  intellectual  and 
social  advancement,  what  harm  is  there  in  bringing  them 
into  vassalage,  and  making  them  grind,  like  the  brute  an- 
imals to  which  they  are  so  nearly  related,  in  the  prisoii- 
house  of  the  more  favoured  species  7  The  difficulty  is 
not  so  much  with  the  conscience  as  with  the  erroneous 
opinion. 

We  learn  from  the  Memoirs  of  the  Rev.  John  Newton, 
of  England,  a  man  as  much  disting-uished  for  his  piety 
as  for  his  intelhgence  and  eloquence,  that  he  was  for 
some  years  personally  engaged  in  the  Slave  Trade  ;  and 
that,  too,  after  he  had  professed,  and  to  all  appearance 
with  great  sincerity,  to  be  guided  by  the  principles  of  the 
Christian  religion.  Such  were  the  prevalent  notions  in 
regard  to  the  blacks,  that  the  traffic  does  not  appear  to 
'lave  occurred  to  him  as  being  morally  WTong.  He  ex- 
pressly says :  "  During  the  time  I  was  engaged  in  the 
Slave  Trade,  I  never  had  the  least  scruple  of  its  lawful- 
ness." He  pursued  it  without  any  of  those  compunctious 
visitings,  which  could  not  fail  to  have  troubled  him  if  he 
had  regarded  them,  as  surely  they  ought  to  be  regardedj 
as  children  of  the  same  common  parent,  and  as  partici- 
pators, in  the  view  of  unprejudiced  justice,  in  the  same 
common  inheritance  of  natural  rights. 

»  410    Further  illii-trat  ons  of  the  inflsence  of  wrong  speculative  opir. 
ions. 

The  speculative  opinion  has  formerly  existed  very  ex 
tensively,  and  does  still  to  some  degree,  that  the  civil  nu 


440  UNiFORMITY    OF    ACTION    IN    THK 

thority  has  a  right,  in  relation  to  its  own  subjects,  te  O' 
act  conformity  in  the  matters  of  reh^ion.  And  the  result 
has  been,  that  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thousands,  at  va- 
rious times  and  in  different  countries,  have  been  subjected 
to  imprisonment,  the  torture,  exile,  and  death.  And  those 
who  have  been  the  leadina;  ao;ents  in  these  horrible  trans- 

o      c> 

actions,  from  the  persecutors  of  the  Primitive  Christiana 
down  to  the  Lauds  and  Bonners  of  later  times,  have  per^* 
petrated  them,  in  their  own  estimation,  with  washed  hands 
and  a  pure  heart.  They  have  gone  from  the  Oratory  to 
the  dungeon  of  the  Inquisition ;  they  have,  with  unques- 
tionable sincerity,  looked  up  to  Heaven  for  a  bk-ssing,  as 
they  have  applied  to  their  mangled  victims  the  screw  and 
Ihe  v/heel  of  torture ;  they  have  arisen  from  the  knee  of 
supplication  to  kindle  with  a  pious  haste  the  fires  of 
Smithfield,  and  to  wield  the  exterminating  sword  of  the 
St.  Bartholomew.  They  have  done  all  this  merely  in 
consaquence  of  entertaining  a  wrong  speculative  opinion 
conscien  tic  icsly. 

^  417.  Influence  of  early  aGsociations  on  moral  judgments 

Our  moral  judgments,  in  the  fourth  place,  nre  some- 
times perplexed  and  led  in  a  direction  diiferent  from  what 
they  would  otherwise  be,  by  means  of  early  associations. 
— The  principle  of  association  does  not  operate  upon  the 
moral  capacity  directly  ;  it  operates  indirectly  with  con- 
siderable influence.  When  a  particular  action  is  to  be 
judged  of,  it  calls  up  in  the  minds  of  different  individuals 
different  and  distinct  series  of  accessory  circumstances. 
It  has  the  effect  to  place  the  thing,  intellectually  consid- 
ed,  in  a  different  position.  This  difference  in  the  tenden- 
cies of  the  associating  principle  can  hardly  fail  to  have 
considerable  effect  in  modifying  the  sentiment  of  appro- 
bation or  disapprobation  resulting  from  the  consideration 
of  any  particular  action. 

Accordingly,  when  vices  are  committed  by  near  friends, 
Dy  a  brother  or  a  parent,  although  they  fill  us  with  the 
deepest  grief,  (perhaps  much  greater  than  we  should  feel 
m  the  case  of  those  who  did  not  sustain  so  near  a  relation,) 
(t  is  frequently  the  case  that  they  do  not  excite  within 
IS  nuch  abhorrem-e  of  the  actual  s^ilt  rts  we  should  be 


MORAL    SENSIBU.ITIES.  44j 

likely  to  feel  in  f/tlier  cases.  Our  prepos  ies&ions  in  iUvou- 
of  the  persons  who  have  committed  the  crime,  sui^gest  a 
tlousand  circumstances  which  seem  to  us  to  alle\iate  it« 
aggravation.  We  frame  for  them  a  multitude  of  plausi- 
ble  excuses,  which  we  should  not  have  thought  of  do'mu 
had  it  not  been  for  the  endearments  and  intercourse  of 
isur  previous  connexion. 

Savage  life  also  gives  us  an  illustre.tion  of  the  viewi 
aow  expressed.  Owing  to  the  peculiar  situation  of  those 
m  that  state,  and  the  consequent  early  associations,  a  fac- 
titious and  exaggerated  importance  is  attached  to  mere 
courage  ;  and  gentleness,  equanimity,  and  benevolence 
are,  as  virtues,  proportionally  depressed.  In  this  v/ay  their 
moral  judgments  are  not  unfrequently  perplexed  and  ren* 
dered  erroneous. 

0  413,   Of  diversities  in  the  moral  judgment  in  connexion  with  an  exci 
ted  state  of  the  passions. 

Furthermore,  there  may  be  diversities  of  moral  judg 
ment ;  in  other  words,  the  moral  nature  may  occasionally 
be  perplexed  and  led  astray  in  its  action,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  state  of  excited  passion. — The  action  of  all  the 
parts  of  the  mind  is  a  conditional  one ;  that  is  to  say,  it 
takes  place  only  under  certain  assignable  circumstances 
It  is,  for  instance,  one  condition  of  moral  action,  as  we  have 
repeatedly  had  occasion  to  notice,  that  there  must  be  an 
antecedent  perception  of  the  thing,  whatever  it  is,  upon 
w^hich  the  moral  judgment  is  to  be  passed.  This  con- 
dition of  moral  action  is  violated  in  the  case  under  con- 
sideration, as  w^ell  as  in  others.  In  a  time  of  great  ex- 
citement of  passion,  the  moral  emotion  which  would  have 
existed  un  ier  other  circumstances  has  failed  to  arise,  be- 
cause the  soul  is  intensely  and  wholly  taken  up  wdth  an- 
other species  of  feeling.  The  perceptive  and  comparing 
part  of  the  mind  is  not  in  a  situation  to  take  a  right  view 
of  the  subject,  whatever  it  is.  But  after  the  present  j  as- 
sion  has  subsided,  so  as  to  give  the  person  an  opportunity 
to  inquire  and  reflect,  the  power  of  moral  judgment  re- 
turns And  at  once  the  individual,  who  has  been  the 
subject  of  such  violence  of  feeling,  looka  with  honor  (^u 
fhe  deeds  which  he  has  committed. 


f 


442  MURAL    EDUCATION. 

Ill  this,  ana  in  all  the  c  ases  which  have  been  menliouea, 
the  conscience  will  probably  be  found  to  be  in  harmony 
with  itself.  Its  defective  judgments  are  not  owip^  to 
any  defect  in  its  own  nature ;  but  to  the  circumstauce, 
owing  to  ignorance,  to  early  training,  prejudice,  wrong 
associations,  and  inordinate  passion,  and  perhaps  some 
other  causes  similar  in  their  results,  that  an  imperfect  o.t 
iisforted  view  of  the  facts  has  been  presented  before  it 


CHAPTER  V. 

MORAL    EDUCATION. 
^  419.   Suggestions  on  the  importance  of  moral  education 

We  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  leave  the  subject  of  tiie 
Moral  Sensibilities  without  offering  a  few  remarks,  chief 
ly  of  a  practical  nature,  on  the  subject  of  moral  educa- 
tion  in  general.  It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  occupy  time 
in  attempting  to  show  the  importance  of  such  education, 
since  no  one  can  be  ignorant  of  the  deplorable  consequen- 
ces which  follow  from  an  utter  neglect  of  it.  But,  not- 
withstanding the  general  concession  of  its  importance,  it 
has  ever  held  a  subordinate  rank,  compared  wnth  that 
purely  intellectual  education  which  deals  wholly  with  Ihe 
mere  acquisition  of  knowledge. 

While  no  one  presumes  to  assert  that  moral  education 
is  unimportant,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  it  has  been 
exceedingly  neglected,  in  consequence  of  the  greater 
value  which  has  generally  been  attached  to  that  training 
of  the  mind  w^hich  has  exclusive  relation  to  its  intel- 
lectual part.  Children  and  youth  have  been  taught  with 
grreat  zeal  in  everything  where  the  head  is  concerned  ;  in 
giarnraar,  geography,  arithmetic,  geometry,  astronomy, 
and  the  like ;  and  in  almost  nothing  which  concerns  the 
heart  No  pains  have  been  spared  in  favour  of  the  intel- 
lect, while  the  sensitive  part  of  our  nature,  the  moral  fcmo« 
lions,  the  lower  modifications  of  desire,  and  the  affections 
hare  been  left  to  take  care  of  themselves. 


MUKAL    EDUCATION  443 

Supposing  this  to  be  nearly  the  true  state  of  things, 
every  reflecting  mind  must  contemplate  it  w'th  regret, 
and  will  look  forward  with  great  interest  to  the  time, 
si'hen  moral  education  shall  at  least  be  put  on  a  footing 
with  intellectual,  if  it  do  not  take  the  precedence  of  it 
Certain  it  is,  that  a  firm  and  ample  foundation  is  laid  foi 
this  species  of  mental  training,  if  the  doctrines  which 
Have  been  advanced  in  the  course  of  this  Work  are  cor- 
rect; FIRST,  that  we  have  intellectually  the  power  of 
forming  the  abstract  conceptions  of  right  and  wrong,  of 
merit  and  demerit,  which  necessarily  involves  that  there 
is  an  immutable  standard  of  rectitude ;  and,  second,  that, 
in  the  department  of  the  Sensibilities,  we  have,  in  corre- 
spondence with  the  fact  of  such  an  immutable  standard, 
the  implanted  principle  of  the  Moral  Sensibility  or  Con- 
science, which,  in  the  Emotive  form  of  its  action,  indi- 
cates our  conformity  to  the  standard  of  rectitude  or  diver- 
gency from  it,  and  in  its  Obligatoiy  action  authoritatively 
requires  conformity.  We  assert  that  we  have  here  basis 
enough  for  a  consistent  and  durable  moral  education; 
especially  when  we  take  mto  view  the  close  connexiop 
existing  between  the  conscience  and  the  intellect,  partic- 
ularly the  reasoning  power. 

i  420.  The  mind  early  occupied  either  with  good  or  bad  principles. 

It  may  perhaps  be  suggested  here,  admitting  the  gen- 
eral fact  of  the  great  importance  of  moral  education,  that 
(t  would  be  better  to  leave  the  subject  of  morals  until 
persons  are  old  enough  to  decide  on  all  subjects  of  this 
nature  for  themselves.  This  suggestion  would  be  entitled 
to  more  weight,  if  it  w^ere  possible,  in  the  mean  while,  for 
the  mind  to  remain  a  moral  blank.  But  this  does  not 
appear  to  be  the  case.  As  the  mind  is  continually  opera- 
tive, it  is  almost  a  matter  of  course  that  it  receives,  and. 
as  it  were,  incorporates  into  itself,  moral  principles  eithtr 
right  or  wTong.  We  are  surrounded  with  such  a  variety 
Vft  active  influences,  that  he  who  is  nr  imbued  with  good 
cannot  reasonably  expect  to  be  uncontaminated  Avith  evil 
In  order,  therefore,  to  prevent  the  contaminations  of  vice^ 
it  IS  necessary  to  preoccupy  the  mind  by  the  careftil  in* 
Induction  and  the  faithful  cultivation  of  the  elementa  of 


444  MORAL    EDUl,AT!ON 

virtue  Let  the  young  mind,  therefore,  the  minds  of  ciul- 
dren  and  youth,  be  made  the  subjects  of  assiduous  moral 
culture. 

^421.  Of  ihc  time  when  mora   instruction  ought  to  commence 

We  cannot  but  conclude,  therefore,  that  a  course  of 
Amoral  training  ought  to  be  commenced  at  an  early  period. 
It  is  a  truth  sufficiently  established,  that  we  begin  to 
karn  as  soon  as  we  begin  to  exist.  The  infant  no  sooner 
comes  into  the  world,  than  the  mind  expands  itself  foi 
the  reception  of  knowledge,  as  naturally  as  the  flowei 
opens  its  rejoicing  leaves  to  the  rising  sun.  The  earnest- 
ness which  it  discovers  as  it  turns  its  eye  towards  the 
light  or  any  bright  object,  its  expression  of  surprise  on 
hearing  sudden  and  loud  sounds,  its  strong  propensity  to 
imitate  the  actions  and  words  of  its  attendants,  all  show 
most  clearly  that  the  Vv^ork  of  intellectual  developemeni 
is  begun. 

While  no  one  doubts  this  early  developement  of  the 
intellect,  it  has  not  been  so  generally  admitted  to  be  true 
of  the  pathematic  and  moral  part  of  our  natiu"e.  But 
there  is  no  sufficient  ground,  as  we  have  already  had  oc- 
casion to  intimate,  for  a  distinction  in  this  respect ;  the 
developement  of  the  head  and  the  heart,  of  the  intellect 
and  the  sentient  nature,  begins  essentially  at  one  and  the 
same  time.  It  is  true  that  the  perceptive  or  intellectual 
action  is  necessarily  antecedent  in  the  order  of  nature ;  bul 
the  sensitive  action,  both  natural  and  moral,  follows  closely 
and  perseveringly  in  its  train.  And  this  also  may  be  ad 
ded,  viz.,  that  the  developement  of  the  moral  nature  in  iti 
leading  outlines  appears  to  be  sooner  completed.  Fdcts 
and  the  relations  of  facts,  which  are  the  subjects  of  the 
mtellectual  activity,  are  infinite.  But  the  great  princi- 
ples of  morals,  however  multiplied  they  may  be  in  their 
applications,  are  in  themselves  few  an  i  simple.  How 
few  persons,  at  the  age  of  fourteen  or  sixteen  years,  have 
completed  their  attainments  in  knowledge,  and  have  fully 
unfolded  and  strengthened  all  their  intellectual  powers! 
And  yet  how  many  at  the  same  sge  have  established 
such  a  decided  moral  character,  either  for  good  or  evil,  aa 
almost  t")  pieclude  a  hope  of  a  correction  of  its  deformi 


MORAI.    EDUCATION.  44^ 

ties  in  the  ona  case,  or  the  enhanceMent  of  its  beautif-s 
in  the  otlier ! 

9  422.  Of  the  discouragements  attending  a  process  of  moral  instruct'oii 

And  here  we  would  remark  upon  one  discouragemenl 
which  frequently  attends  the  eflbrts  of  those  who  are  so 
situated  as  to  render  it  especially  their  duty  to  impart  in- 
struction to  the  young.  We  refer  to  the  fact  that  it  is 
sometimes,  and  but  too  frequently,  the  case,  that  they  see 
but  little  immediate  good  results  tiom  their  labours.  They 
can  see  distinctly  the  advancement  of  their  pupils  in  that 
knowledge  which  is  appropriate  to  the  intellect,  but  are 
less  able  to  measure  their  progress  in  what  pertains  to  the 
moral  culture.  Indeed,  they  too  often  believe  that  theh 
instruction  is  seed  sown  upon  stony  ground,  which  is  not 
only  vmproductive  at  present,  but  is  absolutely  and  for- 
ever lost. 

This  is  a  great  mistake.  The  truth  is,  that  nothing  is 
lost.  The  moral  and  i^eligious  instruction  which  is  com- 
municated to  the  youthful  memory,  is  deposited  in  the 
keeping  of  a  power  which  may  sometimes  slmnber,  but 
can  never  die.  It  may  long  be  unproductive  ;  it  may  re 
main  for  years  without  giving  signs  of  vivification  and  o.^ 
an  operative  influence ;  and  yet  it  may  be  only  waiting 
for  some  more  favourable  and  important  moment,  when  it 
shall  come  forth  suddenly  and  prominently  to  view.  No 
one,  therefore,  ought  to  be  discouraged  in  the  discharge 
of  this  duty.  In  nothing  is  the  Scriptural  declaration 
more  likely  to  be  fulfilled  in  its  richest  import.  "  Cast 
thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  thou  shalt  find  it  after 
many  days." 

Multitudes  of  illustrations  might  be  introduced  to  con- 
firm the  views  of  this  section.  How  natural  is  the  fcl- 
lo\Ning  incident !  And  how  agreeable,  therefore,  to  sound 
phibsophy ! — "  When  I  was  a  little  child,"  said  a  religious 
man,  "  my  mother  used  to  bid  me  kneel  beside  her,  and 
place  her  hand  upon  my  head  while  she  prayed.  Ere  1 
was  old  enough  to  know  her  worth,  she  died,  and  I  was 
left  much  to  my  own  guidance.  Like  others,  I  was  in- 
chned  to  evil  passions,  but  often  felt  myself  checked,  and 
as  it  were,  drawn  back  by  the  soft  hand  upon  my  head 
Pp 


446  TAOKAL    EDUCATION 

When  I  vvas  a  yomig  nr\n  I  travelled  in  foreign  landi, 
and  was  expose:!  to  man)  temptations ;  but  when  I  would 
ha'^^e  yielded,  that  same  hand  was  upon  my  head,  and  1 
was  saved.  I  seemed  to  feel  its  pressure  as  in  the  days 
of  my  happy  infancy,  and  sometimes  there  came  with  it  a 
voice  in  my  heart,  a  voice  that  must  be  obeyed  ;  Oh,  do 
not  this  wickedness,  my  son,  nor  sin  against  thy  God." 

>  423.  O    the  importance,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  of  adopting  correct 
speculative  opinions. 

But,  while  we  assert  that  there  is  ample  basis  in  the 
mental  constitution  for  a  moral  education,  that  this  edu- 
cation ought  to  be  commenced  at  an  early  period,  and 
that  such  a  course  of  training  has  its  due  share  of  encour- 
agements, we  acknowledge  that  it  is  not  an  easy  thing  ii, 
a  few  words  to  point  out  the  characteristics,  and  to  indi- 
cate the  outlines  of  a  system  of  moral  culture.  Accord- 
ingly, we  shall  not  attempt  it  any  further  than  to  add  a 
few  general  suggestions.  We  proceed,  therefore,  to  re- 
mark, t'^iat  suitable  pains  ought  to  be  taken  to  introduce, 
into  the  young  mind  correct  speculative  opinions. 

It  was  seen  in  a  former  Chapter  that  the  conscience 
acts  in  view  of  the  facts  which  are  before  it.  It  will  fol- 
low, therefore,  if  we  adopt  wrong  opinions,  whatever  they 
may  be,  they  will  have  an  effect  upon  the  conscience 
If  these  opinions  be  important,  be  fundamental,  they  will 
be  likely  to  lead  us  in  a  course  which,  under  other  cir- 
cumstances, we  should  regard  as  wrong  in  the  very  high- 
est degree.  The  belief  that  men  by  nature  possess  equal 
rights,  is  in  itself  nothing  more  than  a  speculative  opinion ; 
but  this  opinion,  simple  and  harmless  as  it  may  seem  in 
tts  enunciation,  is  at  this  moment  shaking  thrones,  unbind- 
ing the  chains  of  millions,  and  remodelling  the  vast  fabric 
of  society.  The  opinion  that  the  rights  of  conscience  are 
nalienable,  and  that  no  one  can  regulate  by  violent  means 
die  religion  of  another,  is  breaking  the  wheel  of  torture. 
^ivi  quenching  the  fire  of  persecution,  and  quickening  into 
life  the  smothered  worship  of  the  world.  The  speculative 
opinion  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  appeared  in  the 
form  of  man,  and  by  his  death  made  an  atonement  for 
sin.  is  a  truii,  simple  and  inefTective  as  it  may  at  first 


MORAL    EDUCATION.  44? 

Sight  appear,  wldch  has  ah'eady  changed  the  face  of  do- 
mestic aivl  civil  society,  and,  like  a  little  leaven  -wliich 
leavenclh  the  whole  lump,  is  secretly  regenerating  the 
whole  mass  of  human  nature. 

Wf  infer,  therefore,  that  it  is  highly  important  to  con- 
sider well  what  truths  we  adopt.  The  doctrine  that  it  is 
no  matter  what  we  believe,  if  we  are  only  sincere  in  it,  vi 
derogatory  to  the  claims  of  human  reason,  and  full  of 
danger.  What  persecutor,  what  tyrant,  what  robber- 
what  assassin  may  not  put  in  his  claim  for  a  sort  of  sin 
ce  rity,  and,  in  many  cases,  justly  too  ?  It  is  a  sincerity,  a 
conscientiousness  based  on  all  t'l  e  wisdom  which  human 
intelligence,  in  its  best  efforts,  can  gather  up,  and  nothing 
short  of  this,  which  stands  approved  in  the  sight  of  hu- 
man reason  and  of  a  just  Divinity. 

^  424.   Of  the  knowleilge  of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  of  the  study  of 
religious  truth  generallv 

And,  in  connexion  with  what  has  been  said  in  the  pre- 
ceding section,  we  proceed  to  remark  further,  that  all 
morality  must  necessarily  be  defective,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  which  proceeds  on  the  principle  of  excluding  re- 
ligion. It  is  true  that  a  man  who  is  not  religious,  (in 
other  words,  who  has  not  a  sincere  regard  for  the  char- 
acter and  institutions  of  the  Supreme  Being,)  may  do  some 
things  which,  in  themselves  considered,  are  right  and  are 
morally  commendable;  but  he  does  not  do  all  that  is  right, 
he  comes  short  in  the  most  essential  part.  And  his  fail- 
ure there  renders  it  difficult,  perhaps  we  may  say  impos- 
sible, to  speak  of  him,  with  any  degree  of  propriety  and 
truth,  as  a  right,  that  is  to  say,  as  a  just  or  holy  person. 

We  assert,  therefore,  that  moral  education  must  include, 
US  a  leading  element,  some  instruction  in  regard  to  the 
existence  and  character  of  God,  and  those  religious  duties 
■which  are  involved  in  the  fact  of  his  existence  and  char- 
acter. Our  conscience,  the  office  of  which  is  to  adjust 
OUT  duties  to  our  ability  and  the  relations  we  sustain,  im- 
peratively requires  this.  In  the  eye  of  an  enlightened  in- 
tellectual perception,  God  stands  forth  distinct  from,  and 
pre-eminent  above  all  others,  as  an  object  infinitely  ex- 
alted  ;  and  a  want  of  love  io  his  character  and  of  adho 


4.AS  MORAL    EDUCATlUn 

flioij  to  his  law  is,  in  the  view  of  conscience,  a  crime  ss 
grossly  flagrant  in  itself  as  not  to  be  atoned  for  by  &n\ 
other  virtue.  And  not  only  this ;  a  proper  regard  for  the 
character  of  the  Supreme  Being  has  such  a  multiplicitv 
of  bearings  and  relations,  in  consequence  of  the  difflisioi: 
of  his  presence,  and  the  multiplicity  of  his  acts  and  re- 
quirements, that  the  crime  involved  in  the  want  of  ii 
seems  to  spread  itself  over  the  infinite  number  of  transac- 
tions which,  taken  together,  constitute  the  sum  of  life- 
So  that  the  doctrine  of  the  existence  of  God,  received  intr 
the  intellect,  and  attended,  as  it  should  be,  with  perfec 
ove  in  the  heart,  is,  beyond  ail  question,  the  great  found 
ition  and  support  of  a  truly  consistent  moral  life. 


THE  SENSIBILITIES,  OR  SENSITIVE 
NATURE. 

SENSITIVE    STATES    OP    THE    MIND    OR    SENTIilENTS. 


PART  THIRD. 

IMPERFECT  OR  DISORDERED  SENSITIVE  ACTION 


Pp2 


CHAPTER  1. 

KISOillJEUED   AM)   AIJENATED   ACTION   OF    THE    APPETITESs   AfTB 
PROPENSITIES. 

^  425.  Introductory  remarks  on  disordered  sensitive  aciion. 

With  what  has  now  been  said  on  the  subject  of  our 
moral  nature,  we  b/ing  the  interesting  and  important  de- 
partment of  the  Sensibihties,  in  its  two  leading  forms  of 
the  Natural  or  Pathematic  Sensibilities,  and  of  the  Moral 
Sensibilities,  to  a  conclusion.  In  sajing  this,  however, 
we  have  reference  *^o  its  regular  and  ordinary  action,  or 
that  action  which  takes  place  in  accordance  with  the  or- 
dinary  and  permanent  principles  of  the  Sensitive  nature. 
But  it  remains  to  be  added  further,  that  there  are  instan- 
ces here,  as  well  as  in  the  Intellect,  of  marked  and  disas- 
trous deviations  from  the  salutary  restraint  which  these 
principles  impose.  In  other  words,  there  is  not  unfre- 
quently  an  action  of  the  Sensibilities  which  is  so  far  out 
of  the  ordinary  or  natural  line  of  the  precedents  of  the 
heart  and  the  morals,  that  it  may  be  properly  described, 
sometimes  as  an  imperfect  or  disordered,  and  sometimes 
as  an  alienated  action. — It  is  to  the  examination  of  this 
subject,  a  knowledge  of  which  is  ob\'iously  necessary  to 
a  comprehensive  and  complete  view  of  the  Sensibilities, 
that  we  now  propose  to  proceed. 

^  426.  Of  what  is  meant  by  a  disordered  and  alienated  state  of  the 
sensibilities. 

It  may  be  proper  to  remark  here,  that  an  imperfect  oi 
disordered  action  of  the  Sensibilities  may  express  merely 
an  irregularity  of  action,  something  out  of  the  common, 
and  ordinary  course  of  action ;  or,  as  the  form  of  expres- 
sion is  ob^^ously  a  somewhat  general  and  indefinite  one, 
it  may  indicate  something  more.  When,  for  instance, 
lliis  irregular  and  disordered  state  passes  a  certain  limit, 
goes  beyond  a  certain  boundary  which  is  more  easily 
conceived  than  described,  it  becomes  Insanity  or  AHena- 
tion.    That  is  to  say,  the  merely  irregular  action  becomes 


4.52  UlhORDERKf)    ANU    ALIENATED    ACTION 

an  'iibanc  or  alienated  ac.ion,  when  it  becomes  so  gi  eal^ 
so  pervading,  and  so  deeply  rooted  in  the  mind,  that  the 
individual  ha"?  no  power  of  restoration  in  himself.  So  that 
it  would  seem  to  follow,  in  view  of  this  remark,  that  there 
may  be  a  disordered  state  of  the  mind  which  is  insanity  ; 
and,  under  other  circumstances,  a  disordered  state  of  tlit; 
mind  which  is  not  insanity,  or,  rather,  which  is  less  than 
msanity.  But  in  either  case  this  condition  of  mind  is  not 
to  be  regarded,  nor  is  it,  m  point  of  fact,  a  sound  mental 
state.  Although  we  may  not  be  able  to  say  specifically, 
in  a  given  case,  that  the  disorder  has  reached  the  point 
of  insanity,  yet  it  is  certain  that  the  mind  in  this  disor- 
dered state,  whether  the  disorder  be  greater  or  less,  is 
presented  to  our  view  in  a  new  and  important  aspect. 

Unquestionably,  a  wide  and  interesting  field  of  rem.ark 
IS  opened  here.  Nevertheless,  what  we  have  to  say  will 
necessarily  be  brief,  indicating  rather  the  general  traii;s 
of  thought  which  naturally  present  themselves,  'ban  fol  - 
lowing  them  out  into  minuteness  of  detail.  And  in  ex& 
cuting  this  plan,  imperfect  as  it  can  hardly  fad  to  be,  w£ 
shall  conform,  so  far  as  may  be  practicable,  to  those  class- 
ifications of  our  Sensitive  nature  which  have  hitherto 
^pNied  to  aid  our  inquiries. 

^  427.   Of  the  disordered  and  alienated  action  of  the  appetites 

Accordingly  we  remark,  in  the  first  place,  that  theie 
may  be  a  disordered  and  alienated  action  of  the  Appe- 
tites.— It  is  well  known  that  the  appetites  grow  stronger 
md  stronger  by  repeated  indulgence.  While  the  process 
of  increased  appetitive  tendency  is  going  on,  there  still 
remains,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  enough  of  rernonstrance 
in  the  conscience,  and  of  restrictive  and  aggressive  energy 
in  the  Will,  to  ward  off  that  state  of  thraldom  which  is 
rapidly  approaching.  But  in  some  melancholy  cases  it 
IS  otherwise ;  the  line  of  demarcation,  which  separates  the 
possibility  and  the  impossibility  of  a  restoration,  is  passed  > 
and  from  that  time  onward  there  is  nothing  but  inter- 
mmable  sinking.  Such  cases  as  these  may  undoubtedly 
be  regarded  as  coming  withm  the  limits  of  some  of  h  e 
multiplied  forms  of  mental  alienation. 

The  most  frequent  instances  of  mct.tal  alienation.  ?>• 


jF   the    AiTKTITES    AND   FROPENSIllSS,  453 

g.natmg  in  a  disordered  and  excessive  energy  of  ihe  ap- 
petites, are  to  be  found  in  that  numerous  class  of  persons 
who  habitually  indulge  in  the  use  of  intoxicating  drugs, 
p'articularly  ardent  spirits.  When  the  person  Vvho  indul- 
g«  s  in  the  use  of  intoxicating  licj  lors  has  so  increased  the 
•energy  of  this  pernicious  appetite  as  really  tD  bring  him* 
t;elf  within  the  limits  of  mental  alienation,  there  is  no  hope 
of  a  return  by  means  of  any  effort  which  he  himself  is 
capable  of  making.  He  may  have  a  clear  perception  of 
the  misery  of  his  situation ;  the  desire  of  esteem  may  still 
arouse  within  him  the  recollection  of  what  he  once  wa? 
and  of  what  he  still  ought  to  be ;  the  conscience  may  still 
speak  out  in  remonstrance,  though  probably  with  a  dimin- 
ished voice ;  the  will  may  continue  to  put  forth  some  in- 
effectual struggles ;  but  it  is  found  to  be  all  in  vain.  If 
left  to  himself,  and  not  put  under  that  constraint  wdiich 
is  proper  to  persons  in  actual  insanity,  it  may  be  regarded 
as  a  matter  of  moral  certainty  that  he  will  plunge  deeper 
and  deeper  in  the  degrading  vice  of  which  he  is  the  sub* 
ject,  so  long  as  the  remaining  powers  of  life  shall  support 
him  in  the  process. 

The  individuals  who  ^re  in  this  situation  seem  them- 
selves to  have  a  consciousness  of  this.  They  see  clearly 
that  in  their  o"ii.'n  strength  there  is  no  hope.  In  repeated 
instances  si'cn  persons  have  gone  to  keepers  of  peniten- 
tiaries and  other  prisons,  and  earnestly  entreated  for  ad- 
mission, on  the  ground  that  nothing  short  of  strict  seclu- 
sion within  their  massy  walls  would  secure  them  against 
the  ruinous  indulgence  of  their  appetite. — "  The  use  of 
strong  drink,"  says  Dr.  Rush,  (Diseases  of  the  Mind,  ch. 
X.,)  "  is  at  first  the  effect  of  free  agency.  From  habit  it 
takes  place  from  necej;sit)\  That  this  is  the  case,  I  infer 
from  persons  who  are  inordinately  devoted  to  the  use  of 
ardent  spirits  being  irreclaimable,  by  all  the  considera- 
tions which  domestic  obligations,  friendship,  reputation, 
-property,  and  sometimes  even  by  those  which  religion 
and  the  love  of  life  can  suggest  to  them.  An  instance  of 
insensibility  to  the  last,  in  an  habitual  drunkard,  occurred 
Bome  years  ago  in  Philadelphia.  When  strongly  urgad, 
by  ojie  of  his  friends,  to  leave  off  drinking,  he  said, '  Were 
a  kcs:  of  rum  in  one  corner  of  a  room,  and  were  a  cannou 


454  UlSORDEREU   AND   ALIENATED    ACTION 

constantly  discharging  balls  between  me  and  it,  1  could 
not  refrain  from  passing  before  that  cannon  in  order  to 
get  at  the  rum '  " 

^  428.  Disordered  action  of  the  pr..iciple  of  self-preseivation. 

'\s  we  advance  upw^ard  from  the  Appetites  to  the  re- 
gion of  the  Propensities,  such  as  the  principle  of  self-pres- 
ervation, the  desire  of  knowledge,  the  desire  of  society, 
and  the  like,  we  shall  find  the  latter,  as  well  as  the  for- 
mer, probably  without  an  exception,  subject,  in  certain 
individuals,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  what  m^y  be 
termed  a  diseased  or  disordered  action.  We  begin  with 
the  propensive  principle  of  Self-preservation,  or  wha^. 
may  be  designated  in  other  terms  as  the  natural  desire 
of  a  continuance  of  existence.  This  principle,  like  the 
others  of  the  same  class,  although  not  generally  in  so 
marked  a  degree,  will  sometimes  manifest  itself  under 
such  circumstances  and  in  such  a  manner  as  obviously 
to  show  that  its  action  is  not  a  natural,  regular,  or  healthy 
action.  Persons  under  the  influence  of  the  disordered 
action  of  the  principle  which  is  connected  with  the  pres- 
ervation of  life,  multiply,  as  they  would  be  naturally  sup- 
posed to  do,  images  of  danger  and  terror  which  have  no 
existence,  nor  likeness  of  existence,  except  in  their  own 
disordered  minds.  They  not  only  see  perils  which  are 
invisible  to  others,  but  are  led  to  take  a  multitude  of  pre- 
cautions which,  in  the  estimation  of  those  around  them, 
are  altogether  unnecessary,  and  even  ridiculous. 

Pinel,  under  the  head  of  Melancholy,  mentions  a  case 
which  may  be  considered  as  illustrating  this  subject.  "A 
distinguished  military  officer,"  he  says,  "  after  fifty  years 
of  active  service  in  the  cavalry,  was  attacked  \vith  dis- 
ease. It  commenced  by  his  experiencing  vivid  emotions 
from  the  slightest  causes ;  if,  fcr  example,  he  heard  anj 
disease  spoken  of,  he  immediately  believed  himself  to  be 
attacked  by  it ;  if  any  one  was  mentioned  as  deranged 
in  intellect,  \ie  imagined  himself  insane,  and  retired  into 
his  chamber  full  oi  melancholy  thoughts  and  inquietude. 
Everything  became  for  him  a  subject  of  fear  and  alarm. 
[f  he  entered  into  a  house,  he  was  afraid  that  the  floor 
would  fall  and  precipitate  him  amid  its  ruins.     He  could 


OF    THE    APPETITES    AND    PRCPENSITIES  ^6fi 

nui  pass  a  bridge  without  terror,  unless  impelled  by  the 
sentiment  of  honour  for  the  purpose  of  fighting  "* 

0  429.  Disordered  and  alienated  action  of  the  possessory  principlo 

There  are  instances,  occurring  with  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  frequency,  of  a  disordered  or  alienated  action  of 
the  deshe  of  possession,  or  the  Possessory  principle.  Some 
of  these  are  voluntary ;  that  is  to  say,  are  brought  about 
by  a  course  of  action,  of  which  the  responsibility  rests 
ipun  the  individual.  Others  appear  to  be  congenital  or 
natural. — Among  the  class  of  confirmed  misers,  we  shall 
be  likely,  from  time  to  time,  to  find  instances  of  the  first 
class.  There  are  individuals  among  this  class  of  persons 
who  have  so  increased  the  energy  of  the  Possessoiy  prin- 
ciple (Acquisitiveness,  as  it  is  sometimes  conveniently 
termed)  by  a  long  voluntary  course  of  repetition,  that  its 
iction  is  no  longer  under  the  control  of  the  Will,  but  has 
obviously  passed  over  into  the  region  of  mental  alienation. 
Such  probably  must  have  been  the  case  with  a  certain  indi- 
vidual mentioned  by  Valerius  Maximus,  who  took  advan- 
tage of  a  famine  to  sell  a  mouse  for  two  hundred  pence, 
and  then  famished  himself  with  the  money  in  his  pocket, 
-It  is  difficult  to  tell,  however,  although  a  person  may 
unquestionably  become  insane  in  his  avarice,  whether  this 
is  actually  the  case  in  any  given  instance,  or  whether, 
notwithstanding  its  intensity,  it  falls  in  some  degree  short 
of  alienation. 

6  430.  Instances  of  the  second  kind  or  form  of  disordered  action  of 
the  possessory  principle. 

There  are  other  instances  of  the  disordered  action  oJ 
the  principle  of  Acquisitiveness,  which  appear  to  be  con- 
j^enital  or  constitutional.  In  the  case  of  the  persons  to 
whom  we  now  have  reference,  the  disposition  to  get  pos- 
session of  whatever  can  be  regarded  as  property,  whethei 
of  greater  or  less  value,  shows  itself,  not  only  in  greal 
gtiengtn,  but  at  a  veiy  early  period  of  life.  There  are  a 
considerable  number  of  cases  of  this  kind  to  be  fourd  in 
the  writings  of  Gall  and  Spurzh(  im ;  and  there  are  sXDras 
notices  of  similar  cases  in  a  few  other  writers.     Dr,  Rush 

*  P>  irl,  as  quoted  'n  Combe's  Phrenology,  Boston  ed    p.  S41 


/ 


itib  DISORDEREIJ    &ND    AIJENATED   ACT10J9 

(or  i.istance,  in  his  Medical  Inquiries,  mentions  a  woDir^u 
who  was  entirely  exemplary  in  her  conduct  except  in 
one  particular.  "  She  could  not  refrain  from  stealing. 
What  made  this  vice  the  more  remarkable  was,  that  shf 
"«vas  in  easy  circumstances,  and  not  addicted  to  extravo- 
gance  in  anything.  Such  was  the  propensity  to  this  vice 
ihat,  W'hen  she  could  lay  her  hands  on  nothing  more  vai- 
lable,  she  would  often,  at  the  table  of  a  friend,  fill  her 
r-'ckets  secretly  with  bread.  She  both  confessed  and  la- 
aiented  her  crime." 

Some  of  the  facts  whicn  are  given  by  Dr.  Gall  are  &■ 
tbllows. — "  Victor  Amadeus  I.,  King  of  Sardinia,  was  in 
the  constant  habit  of  stealing  trifles.  Saurin,  pastor  at 
Geneva,  though  poss<^ssing  the  strongest  principles  of  rea- 
son and  religion,  fix  i^uently  yielded  to  the  propensity  to 
steal.  Another  individual  was  from  early  youth  a  victim 
to  this  inclination.  He  entered  the  military  service  on 
purpose  that  he  might  be  restrained  by  the  severity  of 
the  discipline ;  but,  having  continued  his  practices,  he  was 
on  the  point  of  being  condemned  to  be  hanged.  Ever 
seeking  to  combat  his  ruling  passion,  he  studied  theologj- 
and  became  a  Capuchin.  But  his  propensity  followed 
him  even  to  the  cloister.  Here,  h-^'.vever,  as  he  found 
only  trifles  to  tempt  him,  he  indulged  himself  in  his 
strange  fancy  with  less  scruple.  He  seized  scissors,  can- 
dlesticks, snuffers,  cups,  goblets,  and  conveyed  them  to  his 
cell.  An  agent  of  the  government  at  Vienna  had  the 
lingular  mania  for  stealing  nothing  but  kitchen  utensils. 
He  hired  two  rooms  as  a  place  of  deposite ;  he  did  not 
sell,  and  made  no  use  of  them.  The  wife  of  the  famous 
physician  Gaubius  had  such  a  propensity  to  pilfer,  that, 
«hen  she  made  a  purchase,  she  always  sought  to  take 
"Wjmething."* 

i  431.  Disordered  action  of  imitativeness.,  or  the  principle  of  imitatiou 

The  proof  that  there  is  in  man  a  principle  of  imitation, 
which  impels  him  to  do  as  others  do,  is  so  abundant  aa 
probably  to  leave  no  reasonable  doubt  upon  the  candid 
mind.  This  principle,  as  compared  with  its  ordinary  op' 
pration  and  character,  is  found  in  some  individuals  to  ex 

♦  Gall's  Works,  vol.  iv     Am    ed  .  p.  13? 


OF    THE    APPETITES    ANb    PKOPENSITIES.  457 

aibit  an  irregular  or  diseased  action.  M.  Piiiel,  as  hv  ■ 
is  quoted  by  Dr.  Gall,  speaks  of  an  idiot  woman  "  wlio 
Had  an  irresistible  propensity  to  imitate  all  that  she  saw 
done  in  her  presence.  She  repeats,  instinctively,  all  she 
hears,  and  imitates  the  gestures  and  actions  of  otheis 
with  the  greatest  fidelity;  and  without  troubling  herself 
v,itl-  any  regard  to  propriety."* — Under  the  form  of 
Sympathetic  Imitation,  the  disordered  action  of  this  prin- 
ciple becomes  very  important ;  so  much  so,  that  we  shall 
leave  the  subject  here  for  the  purpose  of  considering  it 
more  at  length  than  we  could  otherwise  do,  in  a  separate 
chapter. 

()  432    Disordered  action  of  the  principle  of  sociality. 

The  principle  of  Sociality,  obviously  one  of  the  im  ^ 
planted  propensities  of  our  nature,  may  exist  with  such  a 
degree  of  intensity  as  justly  to  entitle  its  action  to  be 
called  a  disordered,  and,  in  some  cases,  even  an  alienated 
action.  In  connexion  with  this  remark,  it  may  be  proper 
to  revert  a  moment  to  the  precise  idea  which  we  attach 
to  the  term  alienation,  considered  as  expressive  of  a  state 
■or  condition  of  the  mind.  There  may  be  an  imperfection 
of  mental  action,  there  may  be  a  disorder  of  mental  ac- 
tion, which  is  nevertheless  not  an  alienation  of  mental 
action.  The  term  alienation  properly  applies  to  inusc 
forms  of  mental  action  which  are  so  much  disordered  :'* 
to  set  at  defiance  any  efforts  of  the  Will  to  control  then:  ; 
in  a  w^ord,  they  are  involuntary.  So  that,  in  accordancp 
with  this  statement,  there  may  be  either  a  disordered 
state  of  the  principle  of  sociality  or  of  any  other  prmci- 
ple,  (that  is  to  say,  one  which  is  irregular,  but  still  is  sus- 
ceptible of  correction  under  the  efforts  of  the  will;)  or 
there  may  be,  when  this  disorder  is  found  to  exist  beyond 
certain  limits,  an  alienated,  an  insane  state.  But,  although 
this  distinction  should  be  fully  understood,  it  is  not  neces- 
sary, in  the  remarks  which,  for  the  most  part,  we  have  oc- 
casion to  make,  that  we  should  always  keep  it  distinctly 
in  x'lew. 

But  to  return  to  our  subject.     An  irregular  action  of 
thf  so''ial  principle,  whether  it  be  truly  alienated  oi  exist 
'  (U.W  Works,  vol   i ,  p.  320 


458  DISORDERED   AND   ALIENATED    Av^TION 

in  some  lighter  form  of  disorder,  may  show  itseli  in  t^ifv 
aspects,  which  are  entirely  diverse  from  each  other,  viz^ 
either  in  a  morbid  aversion  to  society,  or  hi  a  desire  of 
sociecy  inordinately  intense. — Persons  to  whom  the  firsi 
statement  will  apply  are  generally,  and  for  the  most  part 
justly,  designated  as  Misanthropes.  Under  the  influence 
of  some  sudden  revulsion  of  the  mind,  of  some  great  dis-- 
Fippointment,  of  some  ill-treatment  on  the  part  of  nem 
relatives  and  supposed  friends,  or  of  some  other  powerful 
cause,  the  natural  tie  of  brotherhood,  which  binds  man  to 
his  fellow-man,  is  snapped  asunder,  and  the  unhappy  in- 
dividual flees  to  the  solitude  of  the  rock  and  the  desert 
never  more  to  return. 

()  433.  Further  remarks  on  the  disordered  action  of  the  social  propensity. 

There  is  another  class  of  cases,  which  in  their  charac- 
ter appear  to  be  directly  the  reverse  of  those  which  have 
just  been  mentioned.  Individuals,  when  they  are  cut  off 
from  society,  particularly  the  society  of  their  friends,  are 
sometimes  the  subjects  of  a  misery  inexpressibly  intense. 
The  innocent  but  unfortunate  Foscari,  who  was  banished 
from  Venice  in  1450,  died,  apparently  in  consequence 
of  the  mere  mental  anguish  which  he  suffered.  Cases 
are  also  enumerated  of  death  resulting  from  sohtary  con- 
finement in  prison.*  There  is  an  exceedingly  painful 
disease,  founded  in  a  great  degree  upon  the  disordered 
action  of  the  social  principle,  which  is  termed  by  physi- 
cians Nostalgia,  but  which  is  more  commonly  known  un- 
der the  familiar  designation  of  home-sickness.  This  dis- 
ease, which  is  sometimes  fatal,  is  said  to  have  frequently 
prevailed  among  the  Swiss  when  absent  from  their  na- 
tive country.  The  beautiful  sky  which  shone  over  them 
in  their  absence  from  their  native  land,  the  works  of  art. 
the  allurements  of  the  highest  forms  of  civilization,  could 
not  erase  from  their  hearts  the  image  of  their  rugge:) 
mountains  and  their  stormy  heavens.  They  had  society 
enjugh  around  them,  it  is  true ;  but  it  was  not  the  socie- 
ty which  their  hearts  sought  for,  or  in  w^hich,  in  existing 
circumstances,  they  could  participate.  They  bowed  theit 
heafls  under  the  influence  of  a  hidden  and  irrepressible 

*  Sep  the  large  ed.  of  iMs  Work,  vol.  ii..    ()  144,  148. 


o      THK    APl'ETITFS    ANiS    PROPENSITIES.  459 

sorrow  ;  and  in  many  cases  not  merely  pined  away,  but 
died  in  the  (feep  anguish  of  their  separation. 

In  the  year  1733,  a  Russian  army,  under  the  command 
of  General  Praxin,  advanced  to  the  banks  of  the  Rhine 
At  this  remote  distance  from  their  native  country,  this  se- 
vere mental  disease  began  to  prevail  among  the  Russians, 
5o  much  so  that  five  or  six  soldiers  every  day  became  un- 
fit for  duty ;  a  state  of  things  which  threatened  to  affect 
the  existence  of  the  army.  The  progress  of  this  home- 
sickness was  terminated  by  a  severe  order  from  the  com- 
mander, (designed  probably,  and  which  had  the  effect  to 
produce  a  strong  counteracting  state  of  mind,)  that  every 
me  affected  with  the  sickness  should  be  buried  alive  * 

^  434.   Of  the  disordered  action  of  the  desire  of  esteem. 

There  may  be  a  disordered  action  of  the  desire  of  Es- 
teem. This'  principle  is  not  only  an  original  one,  but. 
as  a  general  thing,  it  possesses,  as  compared  with  some, 
of  the  other  Propensities,  a  greater  and  more  availabk 
amount  of  strength.  It  is  a  regard  for  the  opinions  of 
others,  (a  sense  of  character,  as  we  sometimes  term  it,) 
which,  in  the  absence  or  the  too  gTeat  weakness  of  high- 
er principles,  serves  to  restrict  the  conduct  of  multitudes 
within  the  bounds  of  decency  and  order.  This  principle 
is  good  and  important  in  its  place  and  under  due  regula- 
tion ;  but  it  is  exceedingly  apt  to  become  irregular,  unre- 
strained, and  inordinate  in  its  exercise.  This  view  throws 
light  upon  the  character  of  many  individuals.  It  is  here, 
probably,  that  we  may  discover  the  leading  defect  in  the 
character  of  Alcibiades,  a  name  of  distinguished  celeb- 
rity in  the  history  of  Athens.  His  ruling  passion  seems  tc 
have  been  not  so  much  the  love  of  power  as  the  love  oi 
APPLA'JSE.  In  other  w^ords,  his  great  desire  was,  as  ha.-. 
been  well  remarked  of  him,  "  to  make  a  noise,  and  to 
fiirnish  matter  of  conversation  to  the  Athenians." 

Pope,  in  the  First  of  his  Moral  Essays,  illustrates  this- 
s  ibject,  in  his  usual  powerful  manner,  in  what  he  says  oi 
the  Dn.ke  of  Wharton  ;  the  key  to  whose  character  he 
finds  in  the  excessive  desire  of  human  applause. 

•  Dr  Rush  >n  the  Diseases  of  the  Mind.  2d  ed  ,  r<-  113» 


160  PtSOSDERED    AND    ALIENATElJ   aCTIOH,   ETC 

•"  Search  then  the  ruling  passion.     There  alomr 
The  wile  are  constant,  and  the  cunning  known ; 
This  clew  once  fou.id,  unravels  all  the  rest, 
The  prospect  clears,  and  Wharton  stands  confess  d. 
Wharton,  the  scorn  and  wonder  of  our  days, 
Whose  ruling  passion  was  the  lust  of  praise. 
Born  with  whate'er  could  win  it  from  the  wise, 
Women  and  fools  must  like  him,  or  he  dies." 

The  inordinate  exercise  of  this  propensity,  as  is  cents  '. 
1^  intimated  by  Mr.  Stewart,  tends  to  disorganize  iht 
aimd.  The  man  who  is  under  the  influence  of  such  an 
excessive  appetite  for  the  world's  smiles  and  flatteries,  has 
no  fixed  rule  of  conduct ;  but  the  action  of  his  mind, 
his  opinions,  desires,  hopes,  and  outward  conduct,  are 
constantly  fluctuating  with  the  changing  tide  of  popular 
sentiment.  It  is  nearly  impossible  that  the  pillars  of  the 
mind  should  remain  firm,  and  without  more  or  less  of  un 
dermining  and  dislocation,  under  the  operations  of  sucJ: 
a  system  of  uncertainty  and  vicissitude. — Nor  is  this  all 
When  persons  who  are  under  the  influence  of  this  exces- 
sive desire  are  disappointed  in  the  possession  of  that  ap- 
probation and  applause  which  is  its  natural  food,  they  are 
apt  to  become  melancholy,  misanthropic,  and  unhappy  in  a 
very  high  degree.  In  fact,  numerous  cases  of  actual  In- 
sanity, if  we  look  carefully  at  the  statements  of  writers 
on  the  subject  of  Mental  Alienation,  may  probably  be  tia 
i\id  to  this  source. 

I)  435.  Disordered  action  of  the  desire  of  power. 

Men  become  disordered  in  mind,  and  sometimes  ac- 
tually insane,  not  only  by  the  inordinate  indulgence  of 
the  desire  of  esteem  and  the  desire  of  possession,  but 
also,  perhaps  with  no  less  frequency,  under  the  influence 
of  the  exaggerated  and  intense  desire  of  power.  They 
are  looking  onward  and  upward,  with  an  excited  heart, 
and  constiained  eye,  to  some  form  of  authority,  honour, 
and  dominion,  till  this  desire,  strengthened  by  constant 
repetition,  becomes  the  predominant  feeling.  Instances 
where  the  disorder  of  the  mind  arises  in  this  way  auv? 
exists  to  this  extent  are  innumerable.  But  it  is  not  al  • 
ways  that  it  stop's  here.  If  the  desire  is  suddenly  and 
greatly  disappointed,  as  it  is  very  likely  to  be,  the  rea«'' 


SYnlPATHEIIC    IMITATION.  46 1 

tion  upon  the  whole  mind  may  be  such  as  to  cause  disor- 
der in  all  its  functions,  and  leave  it  a  wide  mass  of  ruins. 
The  history  of  those  who  are  confined  in  Insane  Hos< 
pitals  furnishes  a  strong  presumption  that  such  results  are 
not  unfrequent.  Although  the  mind  is  deranged,  the 
predominant  feeling  which  led  to  the  derangement  seems 
still  to  remain.  One  individual  challenges  for  himseli 
the  honours  of  a  Chancellor,  another  of  a  King ;  one  i? 
a  member  of  Parhament,  another  is  the  Lord  Mayor  of 
London ;  one,  under  the  name  of  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton or  Bonaparte,  claims  to  be  the  commander  of  mighty 
armies ;  another  announces  himself  with  the  tone  and  at- 
titude of  a  Prophet  of  the  Most  High.  Pinel  informs  us 
that  there  were  at  one  time  no  less  than  three  maniacs  in 
one  of  the  French  Insane  Hospitals,  each  of  whom  assu- 
med to  be  Louis  XIV.  On  one  occasion,  these  individu- 
als were  found  disputing  with  each  other,  with  a  great 
degree  of  energy,  their  respective  rights  to  the  throne 
The  dispute  wis  terminated  by  the  sagacity  of  the  super- 
intendent, who,  approaching  one  of  them,  gave  hun,  with 
a  serious  look,  to  understand  that  he  ought  not  to  dispute 
on  the  subject  with  the  bthers,  since  they  were  obviously 
mad.  "  Is  it  not  well  known,"  said  the  superintendent, 
"that  you  alone  ought  to  be  acknowledged  as  Louis 
XIV.  ?"  The  insane  person,  flattered  with  this  homage, 
cast  upon  his  companions  a  look  of  the  most  marked  di> 
dain,  and  immediately  retired 


CHAPTER  n. 

SYMPATHETIC    IMITATION. 
^  436.  Of  sympathetic  imitation,  and  what  is  involved  in  it. 

We  endeavoured,  in  its  proper  place,  to  illustrate  the 
tiaturai  origin  and  the  prevalence  of  the  pi'opensity  to  im- 
itation. In  connexion  with  the  general  truth  of  the  ex- 
istence of  such  a  propensity,  it  is  proper  to  observe  her? 
tha<  there  is  a  subordinate  and  peculiar  form  of  irritation, 
Qq2 


4b2  SYMPATHETIC    IMITATION 

winch  IS  deserving  of  a  separate  notice,  and  particularly 
•io  on  account  of  its  practical  results.  We  speak  no\* 
oi  what  has  been  appropriately  termed  Sympathetic  Imi- 
(aiion. 

It  is  implied,  in  all  cases  of  Sympathetij  Imitation,  tha 
tliert  is  more  than  one  person  concerned  in  them  ;  ami  it 
exists,  in  general,  in  the  highest  degree,  when  the  number 
i>\'  persons  is  considerable.  Some  one  or  more  of  these 
•ndividuals  is  strongly  agitated  by  some  internal  emotion 
Itsire,  or  passion ;  and  this  inward  agitation  is  expressed 
Dy  the  countenance,  gestures,  or  other  external  signs. 
There  is  also  a  communication  of  such  agitation  of  the 
mind  to  others ;  they  experience  similar  emotions,  desires 
and  passions.  And  these  new  exercises  of  soul  are  ex- 
pressed on  the  part  of  the  sym})athetic  person  by  similar 
outward  signs.  In  a  single  word,  when  we  are  under  the 
influence  of  this  form  of  imitation,  we  both  act  and  feel 
ns  others.  And  this  happens,  not  only  in  conserjuence  ol 
what  we  witness  in  them,  and  apparently  for  no  other 
reason,  but  it  happens  naturally  ;  that  is  to  say,  in  virtue 
of  an  implanted  or  natural  principle.  The  view  which 
we  are  inclined  to  take  of  this  principle  is,  that,  although 
we  may  properly  speak  of  it,  on  account  of  its  close  re- 
semblance, as  a  modification  of  the  more  ordinary  form 
of  Imitativeness,  yet,  on  the  whole,  it  is  so  far  distinct  and 
specific  in  its  character  as  to  entitle  it  to  be  regarded  as 
a  separate  part  of  our  sensitive  nature.  As  such  it  might 
have  been  treated  of  in  another  place ;  but  in  its  ordina- 
ly  action  it  is  generally  well  understood ;  and  we  have 
delayed  the  consideration  of  it  till  the  present  time,  be- 
cause it  is  our  principal  object  to  give  some  account  of  \Va 
disordered  or  alienated  action. 

i)  437.   Familiar  instances  of  sympathetic  imitation. 

Abundance  of  instances  (many  of  them  frequent  an^l 
iarailiar)  show  the  existence  of  sympathetic  imitation  ; 
in  other  words,  that  there  is  in  human  feelings,  and  in  he 
signs  of  those  feelings,  a  power  of  contagious  cominii- 
uication,  by  which  they  often  spread  themselvef;  rapid!} 
fiom  one  to  another. 

**  Tn  general  it  may  be  remarked.'  says  Mr.  Stewart 


SYI/U'ATIHCTIU    IMITATION.  4G3 

'•  Iha.  whenever  we  see  in  the  countenance  of  another  in- 
dividual any  sudden  change  of  features,  more  especiallj 
such  a  change  as  is  expressive  of  any  particular  passion 
•  -r  emotion,  our  own  countenance  has  a  tendency  to  assimi- 
late itself  to  his.  Every  man  is  sensible  of  this  when  ne 
looks  at  a  person  under  the  influence  of  laughter  or  in  c 
deep  melancholy.  Something,  too,  of  the  same  kind  takes 
iUace  in  that  spasm  of  the  muscles  of  the  jaw  which  we 
txperience  in  yawning;  an  action  w^hich  is  well  knowD 
10  be  frequently  excited  by  the  contagious  power  of  ex- 
ample."* 

To  these  statements,  illustrative  of  sympathetic  imita 
tion,  may  be  added  the  fact,  that  if  there  are  a  number 
of  childien  together,  and  one  of  them  suddenly  gives  way 
to  tears  and  sobs,  it  is  generally  the  case  that  all  the  rest 
are  more  or  less  affected  in  the  same  manner.  Another' 
case,  illustrative  of  the  same  natural  principle,  is  that  oi 
a  mob  when  they  gaze  at  a  dancer  on  the  slack  rope 
They  seem  not  only  to  be  filled  with  the  same  anxiety, 
which  we  may  suppose  to  exist  in  the  rope-dancer  him- 
self; but  they  naturally  writhe,  and  twist,  and  balance 
their  own  bodies  as  they  see  him  do.  It  has  also  been 
frequently  remarked,  that  when  we  see  a  stroke  aimed 
and  just  ready  to  fall  upon  the  leg  or  arm  of  another  per- 
son, we  naturally  shrink,  and  slightly  draw  back  our  own 
leg  or  arm,  with  a  sort  of  prophetic  or  anticipative  imi- 
tation of  the  person  on  whom  the  blow^  is  about  to  be  in 
llicted. 

4  438.  Instances  of  sympathetic  imitation  at  tlie  poor-house  of  Haerlein. 

Multitudes  of  well-attested  facts  show  the  sympathet 
ic  connexion  between  mind  and  mind,  and  sym])athy  be- 
tween the  mind  and  the  nervous  and  muscular  system 
Few  are  more  interesting  or  decisive  than  what  is  stated 
to  have  occurred  at  Haerlem  under  the  inspection  of 
Boerhave. — "  In  the  house  of  charity  at  Haerlem,"  says 
the  account,  "  a  girl,  under  an  impression  of  terror,  fell 
into  a  convulsive  disease,  which  returned  in  regular  par- 
oxysms. One  of  the  by-standers,  intent  upon  assistmg 
her,  was  seized  with  a  similar  fit,  which  also  re  Jirred  at 

*  Stewart's  Elemen's.  vol.  'ii..char.    i. 


ib4  ft-YMPATHETIC    IMirATlON. 

intervals ;  ami  on  the  day  following,  anothef  wa5  attafk- 
ed ;  then  a  thiitl,  and  a  fourth  ;  in  short,  almost  the  whoJ* 
of  the  children,  both  girls  and  boys,  were  afflicted  wnn 
these  convulsions.  No  sooner  was  one  seized,  than  \he 
siglit  brought  on  the  paroxysms  in  almost  all  the  resi  at 
the  same  tiine.  ,  Under  these  distressing  circumstances,  tlie 
physicians  exhibited  all  the  powerful  anti- epileptic  medi- 
cines with  which  their  art  furnishes  them,  but  in  vain. 
*~iey  then  applied  to  Boerhave,  who,  compassionating  the 
wretched  condition  of  the  poor  children,  repaii-ed  to  Haer- 
'em ;  and  while  he  was  inquiring  into  the  matter,  rme  of 
them  was  seized  with  a  fit,  and  immediately  he  saw  sev- 
eral others  attacked  with  a  species  of  epileptic  convul- 
sion. It  presently  occurred  to  this  sagacious  physician, 
that,  as  the  best  medicines  had  been  skilfully  administer- 
ed, and  as  the  propagation  of  the  disease  from  one  to 
another  appeared  to  depend  on  the  imagination,  [the 
sympathy  of  imagination,]  by  preventing  this  impression 
upon  the  mind,  the  disease  might  be  cured ;  and  his  sug- 
gestion was  successfully  adopted.  Having  previously  ap- 
prized the  magistrates  of  his  views,  he  ordered,  in  the 
presence  of  all  the  children,  that  several  portable  furna- 
ces should  be  placed  in  different  parts  of  the  chamber, 
containing  burning  coals  ;  and  that  iron,  bent  to  a  certain 
form,  should  be  placed  in  the  furnaces  ;  and  then  he  gave 
these  further  commands ;  that  all  medicines  would  be  to- 
tally useless,  and  the  only  remedy  with  which  he  was 
acquainted  was,  that  the  first  who  should  be  seized  with 
a  fit,  whether  boy  or  girl,  must  be  burned  in  the  arm  to  the 
very  bone  by  a  red-hot  iron.  He  spoke  this  vnth  un- 
common dignity  and  gravity  ;  and  the  children,  terrified 
at  the  thoughts  of  this  cruel  remedy,  when  they  perceiv- 
ed any  tendency  to  the  recurrence  of  the  paroxysm,  ira » 
mediately  exerted  all  their  strength  of  mind,  and  calle<J 
up  the  horrible  idea  of  the  burning ;  and  were  thus  ena» 
bled,  by  the  stronger  mental  impression,  to  resist  the  in- 
Oacnce  of  the  morbid  propensity." 

^  4-19.   Other  instances  of  this  species  of  imitation. 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  multiply  cases  similar  to 
those  which  have  beer    mentioned.     A  few  years  sinc>e, 


DISOREDERED   ACTION   OF    THE    AFFECTIONS.  468 

there  was  a  man  in  Chelmsford,  Massachusetts,  who  Had 
a  faiLiily  of  six  children,  one  of  whom  became  affected 
with  the  CHOREA,  or  St.  Vitus's  dance.  The  others,  in  thr 
indulgence  of  that  thoughtless  gayet)'  which  is  natural  t{j 
children,  amused  themselves  with  imitating  his  odd  ges- 
tures, until,  after  a  time,  they  were  irresistibly  affected  in 
tiie  same  -'■ay.  At  this  state  of  things,  which  seems  to 
oe  siisceptible  of  an  explanation  in  no  other  way  than  on 
the  principles  of  sympathetic  imitation,  the  family,  as 
may  naturally  be  supposed,  were  in  great  affliction.  The 
iather,  a  man  of  some  sagacity  as  well  as  singularity  oi 
humour,  brought  into  the  house  a  block  and  axe,  and  sol- 
emnly threatened  to  take  off  the  head  of  the  first  child 
who  should  hereafter  exhibit  any  involuntary  bodily 
movement,  except  the  child  originally  diseased.  By  this 
measure,  which  proceeded  on  the  same  view  of  the  hu 
man  mind  as  the  experiment  of  Boerhave  just  mentioned, 
a  new  train  of  fepling  was  excited,  and  the  spell  was 
broken.* 

It  may  be  added,  that  not  only  those  in  the  same 
family  and  in  the  same  building  have  been  seized,  but 
the  contagion  has  sometimes  spread  from  one  to  another, 
(by  the  mere  imitation  of  sympathy  as  we  suppose,)  over 
whole  towns,  and  even  large  districts  of  country.  This 
w^as  the  case  in  a  part  of  the  island  of  Anglesey  in  1796 ; 
and  still  later  in  this  country,  in  some  parts  of  Tennessee.-f 


CHAPTER  m. 

DISORDERED   ACTION   OF    THE    AFFECTIONS. 
(  410.  Of  the  st»tes  of  mind  denominated  presentiments. 

W^  proceed  now  to  remark,  that  there  may  be  a  disoi- 
lered  action  of  the  Affections  oi  Passions,  as  well  as  of  the 
I'nrer  principles  of  the  Sensitive  nature  ;  and  this  remark 
IS  designed  to  appiy  to  both  classes  of  the  Affections,  th< 
benev(3ent  and  those  of  an  opposite  kind.  We  do  not  pF- 


*  Powers's  Essay  on  the  Influence  of  the  Imagination,  p. 
■»  See  EV  «hurgh  Med.  and  Surg.  Journal,  vol.  iii.,  p.  446 


32 


466         msoiiDZREu  action  ov  the  affrctions. 

pose,  however,  in  this  Chapter,  to  confine  ourselves  vtrj 
strictly  to  the  Affections,  properly  so  called ;  but  shall  in- 
•.reduce  some  collateral  or  connected  subjects,  which  may 
he  regarded  as  too  interesting  to  be  omitted,  and  at  the 
same  time  as  too  unimportant  to  require  a  distinct  place 
They  ma}"  be  expected,  moreover,  to  throw  indirect ij 
r,nme  light  upon  the  leading  topic  of  the  chapter.  We 
lyegm  with  the  subject  of  presentiments. 

Many  individuals  have  had  at  certain  times  strong  and 
distinct  impressions  in  relation  to  something  future;  so 
much  so  that  not  the  least  doubt  has  remained  in  their 
own  minds  of  its  being  something  out  of  the  common 
course  of  nature.  It  is  related,  for  instance,  of  the  non- 
conformist writer,  Isaac  Ambrose,  whose  religious  works 
formerly  had  some  celebrity,  that  he  had  such  a  striking 
internal  intimation  of  his  approaching  death,  that  he  went 
round  to  all  his  friends  to  bid  them  farewell.  When  the 
day  arrived,  which  his  presentiments  indicated  as  the 
day  of  his  dissolution,  he  shut  himself  up  in  his  room  and 
died.  Moz'iK,  the  great  miisical  composer,  had  a  strong 
presentiment  that  the  celebrated  Requiem  vv^hich  bears 
his  name  Avr'uld  be  his  last  Work.  Nothing  could  re- 
move this  impression  from  his  mind.  He  expressly  said, 
"  It  is  certain  I  am  writing  this  requiem  for  myself;  it  will 
serve  for  ray  funeral  service."  The  foreboding  was  re- 
alized. It  is  stated  of  Pendergrast,  an  officer  in  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough's  army,  that  he  had  a  strong  fore- 
ooding  that  he  would  be  kdled  on  a  certain  day.  He 
mentioned  his  conviction  to  others,  and  even  made  a 
written  memorandum  in  relation  to  it.  And  the  event 
was  such  as  he  had  foretold  it  would  be.*  Henry  the 
f'ourth  of  France,  for  some  weeks  previous  to  his  being 
■issassinated  by  Ravaillac,  had  a  distinct  presentiment, 
•,vhicli  he  mentioned  to  Sully  and  other  men  of  his  time, 

hat  seme  great  calamity  was  about  to  befall  him. 

Si  me  cases  of  Presentiments  can  undoubtedly  be  er- 
i>lained  on  natural  principles.  Some  acjidental  circuui- 
^^lance,  a  mere  word,  the  vagaries  of  a  dream,  any  trifling 
Bvent,  which  happens  in  the  popular  belief  of  the  time 

o.d  country  to  be  regarded  as  a  sinister  o'nen,  may  hsve 

*  Hoswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  v^l    ii  ,  p    48 


.DISORDERED    J  OTION    O:?    THE    ATFECTK  NS.  4-tj? 

been  enough  in  some  cases  to  have  laid  the  foundation  fot 
lh«m  ;  and  the  subsequent  fulfihnent  may  have  b^en  pure- 
ly accidental.  Nor  is  it  necessary,  so  far  as  we  are  able 
(i  perceive,  to  suppose  that  in  any  cases  whatever  there 
's  any  supernatural  or  miraculous  interposition.  But,  if 
this  is  not  the  case,  it  is  difficult  to  account  for  the  deep 
(.•onvi(  tion  which  sometimes  fastens  upon  the  mind,  a  con- 
viction upon  which  arguments  and  persuasions  are  found 
to  make  no  impression,  except  upon  the  ground  that  the 
action  of  the  Sensibilities  is  in  some  degree  disordered. 
But  of  the  specific  nature  of  that  disorder,  the  trait  or 
circumstance  which  distinguishes  it  from  other  forms  of 
disordered  mental  action,  it  is  difficult  to  give  any  ae  ■ 
f.ount. 

^  441.   Of  sudden  and  strong  impulses  of  the  mind. 

There  is  another  disordered  condition  of  the  mind,  dil- 
ferent  from  that  which  has  just  been  mentioned,  and  yet 
m  some  respects  closely  allied  to  it.  Some  persons, 
whose  soundness  of  mind  on  all  ordinary  occasions  is  be- 
yond question,  find  in  themselves  at  certain  times  a  sudden 
and  strange  propensity  to  do  things,  which,  if  done, 
A^ould  clearly  prove  them,  to  some  extent  at  least,  deran- 
ged. As  an  illustration,  a  person  of  a  perfectly  sane 
mind,  according  to  the  common  estimate  of  insanity,  once 
acknowledged,  that,  whenever  he  passed  a  particular 
bridge,  he  felt  a  slight  inclination  to  throw  himself  over, 
accompanied  with  some  dread  that  his  inclination  might 
hurry  him  away.  Such  slight  alienated  impulses  are 
probably  more  frequent  than  is  commonly  supposed, 
A  nd  they  exist  in  every  variety  of  degree ;  sometime? 
scarcely  attracting  notice,  at  others  bearing  the  broad 
and  fatal  stamp  of  dangerous  insanity. 

Dr.  Gall  mentions  the  case  of  a  woman  in  Germany, 
who,  liaving  on  a  certain  occasion  witnessed  a  building  on 
"ire,  was  ever  afterward,  &t  intervals,  subject  to  strong  im- 
pulses prompting  her  to  fire  buildings.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  these  impulses  she  set  fire  to  twelve  buildings  in 
the  borough  where  she  lived.  Having  been  arrested  on 
the  thirteenth  attempt,  she  was  tried,  condemned,  and  ex- 
ftnuted      ''  She  could  orh  e  no  other  reason,  nor  show  anr 


4(5d  DISORDEREll    ACTION    OF    THE    AFFECTIONS. 

3ther  motive,  for  firing  so  many  houses,  than  this  iinpujiue 
which  drove  her  to  it.  Notwithstanding  the  fear,  the  ter- 
ror, and  the  repentance  she  felt  in  every  instance  after 
committmg  the  crime,  she  went  and  did  it  afresh."* 
Would  not  sound  philosophy,  to  say  nothing  of  the  reqm* 
•billons  of  rehgion,  have  assigned  such  a  person  to  an  ij) 
)«ne  xiospital  rather  than  to  the  block  of  the  executioner  ? 
The  same  writer,  who  has  collected  numerous  valuable 
facts  in  relation  to  the  operations  of  the  human  mind 
mentions  the  case  of  a  German  soldier,  who  was  subject 
every  month  to  a  violent  convulsive  a, tack.  "  He  was 
sensible,"  he  proceeds  to  remark, "  of  their  approach;  and 
as  he  felt,  by  degrees,  a  violent  propensity  to  kill,  in  pro 
portion  as  the  paroxysm  was  on  the  point  of  commencing, 
he  was  earnest  in  his  entreaties  to  be  loaded  with  chains 
At  the  end  of  some  days  the  paroxysm  and  the  fatal  pro- 
pensit)^  diminished,  and  he  himself  fixed  the  period  at 
which  they  might  without  danger  set  him  at  liberty.  At 
Haina,  we  saw  a  man  who,  at  certain  periods,  felt  an  ir- 
resistible desire  to  injure  others.  He  knew  this  unhappy 
propensity,  and  had  himself  kept  in  chains  till  he  perceiv- 
ed that  it  was  safe  to  liberate  him.  An  individual  of 
melancholy  temperament  was  present  at  the  execution  of 
a  criminal.  The  sight  caused  him  such  violent  emotion, 
that  he  at  once  felt  himself  seized  with  an  irresistible  de- 
sire to  kill,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  entertained  the 
utmost  horror  at  the  commission  of  the  crime.  He  de- 
picted his  deplorable  state,  weeping  bitterly,  and  in  ex- 
treme perplexity.  He  beat  his  head,  wrung  his  hands, 
,  remonstrated  with  himself,  begged  his  friends  to  save 
themselves,  and  thanked  then  for  the  resistance  they 
made  to  him."t 

^  442.   Insanity  of  the  affections  or  passions. 

From  the  instances  which  have  been  given,  it  will  be 
seen  that  sudden  and  strong  impulses,  indicating  a  disor- 
dered state  of  the  mind,  may  exist  in  reference  to  very 
different  things,  and  also  in  very  various  degrees.  The 
coHZS:  last  mentioned  were  of  such  an  aggravated  nafuie 

*  Gall's  Works,  vol.  iv.,  Am.  ed.,  p    105 

♦  !b..  vol.  i     p.  329 


DISORDERED   ACTION   OF    THE    AFFECTION?-  469 

That  they  may  ppoperly  be  regarded  as  instances  (and  per- 
haps the  same  view  will  apply  to  some  other  cases  cf  a  les"? 
marked  character)  of  actual  alienation  or  insanity.  And, 
tii?  such,  they  may  be  correctly  described  as  instances  oi' 
ihc  insanity  of  the  AtTections  or  Passions. 

The  insanity  of  the  passions  is  a  state  of  mind  some 
vhiit  peculiar,  even  as  compared  with  other  forms  of  in 
s-jnitv.  The  powers  of  perception,  in  cases  of  insanit}; 
'^i  the  passions,  are  often  in  full  and  just  exercise.  The 
rtiind  may  possess,  in  a  very  considerable  degree,  its 
usual  ability  in  comparing  ideas  and  in  deducing  conclu- 
sions. The  seat  of  the  difficulty  is  not  to  be  sought  for 
in  what  are  usually  designated  as  the  intellectual  powers, 
m  distinction  from  the  sensitive  nature,  but  in  the  passions 
alone.  The  victim  of  this  mental  disease  does  not  stop 
to  reason,  reflect,  and  compare ;  but  is  borne  forward  to 
his  purpose  with  a  blind  and  often  an  irresistible  impulse 

Pinel  mentions  a  mechanic  in  the  asylum  Bicetre, 
who  was  subject  to  this  form  of  insanity.  It  w^as,  as  is 
frequently  the  case,  intermittent.  ,  He  knew  when  the 
paroxysms  of  passion  were  coming  on,  and  even  gave 
warnings  to  those  who  were  exposed  to  its  effects  to  make 
their  escape.  His  powers  of  correctly  judging  remained 
unshaken,  not  only  at  other  times,  but  even  in  the  com- 
mission of  the  most  violent  and  outrageous  acts.  He  saw 
clearly  their  impropriety,  but  was  unable  to  restrain  him- 
self; and,  after  the  cessation  of  the  paroxysms,  was  often 
filled  xs-ith  the  deepest  grief. 

<^  443.   Of  the  mental  disease  termed  hypochondriasis. 

The  seat  of  the  well-known  mental  disease  termed' 
]  lypochondriasis,  is  to  be  sought  for  in  a  disordered  staif 
>f  the  Sensibilities.  It  is,  in  fact,  nothing  more  nor  k-.ss 
lian  a  state  of  deep  depression,  gioom,  or  melancholy. 
This  is  the  fact ;  and  we  never  apply  the  term  hypochns- 
vlriasi?  to  a  state  of  the  mind  where  such  gloom  or  melan- 
choly does  not  exist ;  but  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that  the 
O'^.casion  or  basis  of  the  fact  may  sometimes  be  found  in 
a  disordered  condition  of  some  other  part  of  the  mind 
One  o)  two  rx>ncise  statements  will  iJ.lustrate  what  wc 
mean. 

Rr 


470  DISORDERED    ACTION   OF    THE    AFFECTION^s. 

{Jne  of  the  slighter  forms  of  hypochoiichiasis  can  p»'.r 
a})S  be  traced  to  inordinate  workings  of  the  Imagii  atiou 
The  mind  of  the  sufferer  is  fixed  upon  some  unpromising 
and  gloomy  subject ;  probably  one  which  has  particular 
relat'on  either  to  his  present  or  future  prospects.  He  gives 
t  an  undue  place  in  his  thoughts,  dwelling  upon  it  con- 
inually.  His  imagination  hovers  over  it,  throwing  a 
deeper  shade  on  what  is  already  dark.  Thus  the  mind 
becomes  disordered  ;  it  is  broken  off  from  its  ordinary  and 
rightful  mode  of  action ;  and  is  no  longer  what  it  was, 
nor  w'hat  nature  designed  it  should  be. 

There  is  another,  and  still  more  striking  form  of  hypo- 
chondriasis, which  is  connected  in  its  origin  with  an 
alienation  of  the  powder  of  belief  As  in  all  other  cases 
of  hypochondriasis,  the  subject  of  it  suffers  much  mental 
distress.  He  is  beset  with  the  most  gloomy  and  distress- 
I  ig  apprehensions,  occasioned,  not  by  exaggerated  and 
erroneous  notions  in  general,  but  by  some  fixed  and  inev- 
i  -.able  false  belief. — One  imagines  that  he  has  no  soul ; 
another,  that  his  body  is  gradually  but  rapidly  perishing; 
and  a  third,  that  he  is  converted  into  some  other  animal, 
01  that  he  has  been  transformed  into  a  plant.  We  are 
told  in  the  Memoirs  of  Count  Maurepas,  that  this  last  idea 
once  took  possession  of  the  mind  of  one  of  the  princes  of 
Bourbon.  So  deeply  was  he  infected  ^^•^th  this  notion, 
that  he  often  went  into  his  garden  and  insisted  on  being 
watered  in  common  wdth  the  plants  around  him.  Some 
have  imagined  themselves  to  be  transformed  into  glass, 
and  others  have  fallen  into  the  still  stranger  folly  of  ima- 
gining themselves  dead. — What  has  been  said  confirmg 
our  remark,  that,  although  hypochondriasis  is,  in  itself 
considered,  seated  in  the"  sensibilities,  yet  its  origin  may 
wraetimes  be  found  in  a  disordered  state  of  some  other 
rurt  of  the  mind. 

It  is  also  sometimes  the  case,  that  this  disease  origi 
i^ates  in  a  violation  of  some  form  of  sensitive  action.  I. 
iS  not  only,  as  its  appropriate  position,  seated  in  the  sen- 
sibilities, but  it  sometimes  has  its  origin  there.  It  is  rela- 
ted of  a  certain  Englishman,  a  man  of  generous  and  excel- 
lent character,  that  his  life  was  once  attempted  by  hi> 
brotVier  will   a  pistol.     He  succeeded,  however,  in  wrt-Jt 


DISORDEIILL    iCTION    OF    ThK    4FFECT10NS,  4?  J 

ai^f  the  pistol  from  his  brother's  Land,  and,  on  exa;nina- 
cion,  found  it  to  be  double  charged  with  bullets.  This 
transaction,  as  might  be  expected  in  the  case  of  a  person 
of  just  and  genejous  sentiments,  filled  hijii  with  such  hor- 
••(ti,  and  with  such  disgust  for  the  character  of  man,  th  it 
be  secluded  himself  ever  after  from  human  society.  He 
never  allowed  the  visits  even  of  his  own  children.  It  u 
certainly  easy  to  see,  that,  under  such  circumstances,  the 
sensibilities  may  receive  such  a  shock  as  to  leave  the  sub- 
ject of  it  in  a  state  of  permanent  dissatisfaction  and 
gloom.  In  other  words,  he  may  in  this  way  and  for  such 
reasons  become  a  confirmed  hypochondriac. 

()  444.  Of  intermissions  of  hypochondriasis,  and  of  its  remedies. 

The  mental  disease  of  hypochondriasis  is  always  un-  <:^ 
derstood  to  imply  the  existence  of  a  feeling  of  gloom  and 
depi-ession ;  but  this  depressed  feeling  does  not  exist  in 
all  cases  in  the  same  degree.  In  all  instances  it  is 
source  of  no  small  unhappiness ;  but  in  some  the  wretch 
edness  is  extreme.  The  greatest  bodily  pains  are  light 
in  the  comparison.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  however,  that 
the  mental  distress  of  hypochondriasis  is,  in  some  persons, 
characterized  by  occasional  intermissions.  An  accidental 
remark,  some  sudden  combination  of  ideas,  a  pleasant 
day,  and  various  other  causes,  are  found  to  dissipate  the 
gloom  of  the  mind.  At  such  times  there  is  not  unfre- 
quently  a  high  flow  of  the  spirits,  corresponding  to  the 
previous  extreme  depressioii. — As  this  disease,  even  when 
faitigated  by  occasional  intermissions,  is  prodigal  in  evil 
results,  it  becomes  proper  to  allude  to  certain  remedies 
which  have  sometimes  been  resorted  to. 

(1.)  The  first  step  towards  remedying  the  evil  is  to  in- 
fise  health  and  vigour  into  the  bodily  action,  especially 
that  of  the  nervous  system.  The  nerves,  it  will  be  re3  ;>1- 
(ccted,  are  the  great  medium  of  sensation,  inasmuch  as 
tliey  constitute,  under  different  modifications,  the  external 
venses.  Now  the  senses  are  prominent  sources  of  belief 
i.nd  knowledge.  Consequently,  when  the  nervous  system 
(including,  of  course,  the  senses)  is  in  a  disordered  state, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  pei'sons  should  have  wrong  sensa 
flons  and  externa'  percepiioiw,  and,  therefor     a  wron^ 


472  DiSCbDERED    ACTION    OF    THE    AFrECTlONS 

oelief.  If  a  man's  nerves  are  in  such  a  state  that  he  fee* 
precisely  as  he  supposes  a  man  mide  of  glass  would  feel, 
i(  is  no  great  wonder,  when  we  consider  the  constitT.lion 
of  the  mind,  that  he  should  actually  beheve  himself  to  be 
i:omposed  of  that  substance.  But  one  of  the  forms  of  the 
lisease  in  question  is  essentially  founded  on  an  erroneoiw 
but  fixed  belief  of  this  kind.  Hence,  in  restoring  the 
bodily  system  to  a  right  action,  we  shall  correct  the  wron^ 
behef  if  it  be  founded  in  the  senses ;  and,  in  removing 
this,  we  may  anticipate  the  removal  of  that  deep-seated 
gloom  which  is  characteristic  of  hypochondriasis. — (2.) 
\s  all  the  old  associations  of  the  hypochondriac  have  been 
,Aore  or  less  visited  and  tinctured  by  his  peculiar  malady, 
efforts  should  be  made  to  break  them  up  and  remove  them 
from  the  mind  by  changes  in  the  objects  with  which  he  is 
most  conversant,  by  introducing  him  into  new  society,  or 
by  travelling.  By  these  means  his  thoughts  are  likely  to 
be  diverted,  not  only  from  the  particular  subject  which 
has  chiefly  interested  him,  but  a  new  impulse  is  given  to 
the  whole  mind,  which  promises  to  interrupt  and  banish 
that  fatal  fixedness  and  inertness  which  had  previously 
encumbered  and  prosti-ated  it. — (3.)  Whenever  the  mal- 
ady appears  to  be  founded  on  considerations  of  a  moral 
nature,  the  hypochondriasis  may  sometimes  be  removed 
or  at  least  alleviated,  by  the  suggestions  of  counteracting 
moral  motives.  If,  for  instance,  the  despondency  of  mind 
has  arisen  from  some  supposed  injury,  it  is  desirable  to 
suggest  all  well-founded  considerations  which  may  tend 
to  lessen  the  sufferer's  estimate  of  the  amount  of  the  injury 
received.  When  the  injury  is  very  great  and  apparent, 
suggestions  on  the  nature  and  duty  of  forgiveness  may 
Rot  be  viathout  effect. — But,  whatever  course  may  be  ta- 
ken, it  is  desirable  that  the  attentionof  the  sufferer  should 
he  directed  as  little  as  possible  to  his  disease,  by  any  di- 
tect  remarks  upon  it.  It  was  a  remark  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
whose  sad  experience  enabled  hun  to  judge,  that  conver - 
siition  upon  melancholy  feeds  it.  Accordingly,  he  advi 
sed  Boswell,  who,  as  well  as  himself,  was  subject  to  mel« 
ancholy  of  mind,  "  nf^vev  to  speak  of  it  to  feis  friends  nor 
in  companv."' 


WSOKUKKEl)    ACnON    OF    THE    AFFECTIONS  473 

t)  445.   Disordered  action  of  the  fassion  of  fear. 

The  passion  of  fear,  inasmuch  as  there  are  various  ob- 
j<'cts  around  us  which  are  or  ma}  be  dangerous,  is  ob- 
v'lously  implanted  in  us  for  wise  purposes.  But  it  no{ 
unfrequently  exhibits  an  irregular  or  disordered  action. 
This  disordered  state  of  the  affection  may  discover  itself, 
A  hen  considered  either  in  reference  to  the  occasion  on 
•vhich  it  exists,  or  in  reference  to  the  degree  in  which  it 
exists.  In  some  cases,  for  instance,  it  is  connected  with 
objects  which,  in  the  view  of  reason  and  common  sense 
ought  not  to  excite  it.  Some  persons  are  afi'aid  to  hi 
alone  in  the  dark ;  it  is  exceedingly  distressing  to  them. 
Others  are  afraid  (so  much  so,  perhaps,  as  to  be  thrown 
into  convulsions  by  their  presence)  of  a  mouse,  or  a  squir- 
rel, or  an  insect. 

Again,  fear  may  exist  with  such  an  intensity  as  essen- 
tially to  affect  the  mind,  and  even  cause  insanity.  Prob- 
ably the  power  of  this  passion  is  not  well  understood. 
Certain  it  is,  that  terrible  results  have  often  followed  from 
the  attempts  of  persons,  particularly  of  children,  to  excite 
it  in  others,  even  in  sport.  Many  instances  are  on  record 
of  individuals  who  have  been  permanently  and  most  seri- 
ously injured,  either  in  mind  or  body,  or  both,  by  a  sud- 
den fright. 

Sometimes,  especially  v."hen  connected  with  permanent 
causes,  it  gradually  expands  and  strengthens  itself,  till  it 
is  changed  into  despair.  The  distinctive  trait  of  Despair,  <^ 
in  distinction  from  all  other  modifications  of  fear,  is,  that 
it  excludes  entirely  the  feeling  of  hope,  which  exists  in 
connexion  with  fear  in  other  cases.  Despair  may  exist, 
therefore,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  and  with  a  greater 
or  less  amount  of  mental  anguish,  in  accordance  with  the 
nature  of  the  thing,  whatever  it  is,  w'hich  occasions  it 
When  great  present  or  future  interests  are  at  stake,  and 
the  mind,  in  relation  to  those  interests,  is  in  a  state  of 
despair^  the  wretchedness  which  is  experienced  is  neces 
sarily  extreme. 

()  446.   Perversions  of  the  benevolent  aiTections. 

There  are  some  singular  perversions  of  the  beiievoleii    ' 
affections  which  are  worthv  of  noti'^e  here      It  is  not  uii 
Rh2 


474  ISORnERED    ACTION    OF    THE    AFFECTION'S 

frequently  the  case,  that  persons  in  a  state  of  mental  al- 
ienation ai'e  entirely  indifferent  to,  and  sometimes  ihej 
even  hate  those  whom  at  other  times  they  love  most  sia- 
rerely  ana  deeply.  It  is,  perhaps,  difficult  to  explain  this 
[ilthough  it  is  practically  important  to  know  the  fact.— 
Dr.  Hush,  in  speaking  of  a  singular  apathy  or  torpor  of 
'he  passions,  which  is  sometimes  found  to  exist,  says :  "  J 
v/as  once  consulted  by  a  citizen  of  Philadelphia,  who  wa.s 
remarkable  for  his  strong  affection  for  his  wife  and  chiU 
ilren  when  his  mind  was  in  a  sound  state,  who  was  occa- 
sionally afflicted  with  this  apathy,  and,  when  under  its 
influence,  lost  his  affection  for  them  all  so  entirely,  thai 
he  said  he  could  see  them  butchered  before  his  eyes  with- 
out feeling  iny  distress,  or  even  inclination  to  rise  from 
his  chair  to  protect  them." — (2.)  There  are  other  cases, 
where  there  seems  to  be  not  merely  an  extinction  of  the 
benevolent  affection,  but  its  positive  conversion  into  ha- 
tred. The  same  philosophic  physician  mentions  the  case 
of  a  young  lady  who  was  confined  as  a  lunatic  in  the 
Pennsylvania  Hospital  in  the  year  1802.  One  of  the 
characteristics  of  her  insanity  was  hatred  for  her  father. 
She  was  gradually  restored ;  and,  for  several  weeks  be- 
fore she  was  discharged  from  the  Hospital,  discovered  all 
the  marks  of  a  sound  mind,  excepting  the  continuance  of 
this  unnatural  feeling  of  hatred.  On  a  certain  day  she 
acknowledged  with  pleasure  a  return  of  her  filial  attach- 
ment and  affection,  and  soon  after  was  discharged  as 
cured.* — (3.)  There  are  other  cases  where  insanity  is  the 
indirect  result  of  the  mere  intensity  of  the  benevolent  af- 
fections. In  cases  of  this  kind  the  affections  are  so  strong, 
so  intense,  that  they  are  unable  to  withstand  the  shock  of 
sudden  and  grdat  opposition  and  disappointments. — -"  A 
peasant  woman,"  says  Dr.  Gall,  "  became  insane  thref 
f.imes ;  the  first  at  the  death  of  her  brother,  the  second 
it  the  death  of  her  father,  and  the  third  at  that  of  her 
mother.  After  she  had  recovered  the  third  time  she  camo 
U)  consult  me.  As  she  was  very  religious,  she  complain- 
ed to  me  of  her  unfortunate  disposition  to  be  afflicted,  il 
the  loss  of  persons  who  were  dear  to  her,  more  than  rf  (i  • 
Jinn  permits ;  an  evident  proof  that  she  had  yielded  tt 

*  Rush  nil  the  Diseases  of  tlio  Mind,  p.  2o5,  M5i 


DISORDSREK  A  JTION  OF  7  HE  MORAL  SENSIBILll'IES.     47£ 

gnef,  although  she  had  combated  it  by  moiivra  which 
were  within  her  reach."  Pinel  also  mentions  the  case  ot 
d.  young  man  who  became  a  violent  maniac  a  short  time 
alter  losing  a  father  and  mother  whom  he  tenderly  lovf  d 
It  is  true  that  in  these  cases  the  proximate  cause  of  the 
msanit}'  is  sorrow  or  grief;  but  the  remote  cause,  ami 
ihat  without  which  the  unfortunate  result  would  not  have 
(existed,  is  an  unrestrained  and  excessive  position  ol  the 
benevolent  allections. — It  may  be  proper  to  add  here,  thai 
sadden  and  strong  feelings  of  joy  have,  in  repeated  in- 
stances, caused  a  permanent  mental  disorganization,  and 
even  death  itself. — "  The  son  of  the  famous  Leibnitz  died 
from  this  cause,  ipon  his  opening  an  old  chest  and  unex- 
pectedly finding  m  it  a  large  quantity  of  gold.  Joy,  from 
the  successful  issue  of  political  schemes  or  wishes,  has 
often  produced  the  same  effect.  Pope  Leo  X.  died  of  joy, 
in  consequence  of  hearing  of  a  great  calamity  that  had 
befallen  the  French  nation.  Several  persons  died  fiora 
the  same  cause,  Mr.  Hume  tells  us,  upon  witnessing  the 
restoration  of  Charles  IL  to  the  British  throne ;  and  it  is 
well  known  the  dooikeejier  of  Congress  died  of  an  apo- 
[dexy,  from  joy,  upon  hearing  the  news  of  the  capture  of 
liord  Cornwallis  and  his  army  during  the  American  rf^ 
nlutionary  war."* 


CHAPTER  IV. 

mSORDERED   ACTION    OF    THE    MORAL    SENSIBILITIES. 
1^  447.   Nature  of  voluntary  moral  derangemput. 

The  moral,  as  well  as  the  natural  or  pathematic  Sensi- 
bilities,  the  Conscience  as  well  as  the  Heart,  may  be  the 
subject  of  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  disorder  and  ahena- 
fion.  There  are  probably  two  leading  forms,  at  least,  of 
moral  derangement,  viz.,  voluntary,  and  natural  or  con- 
GENITAL. — In  regard  to  voluntary  moral  derangement,  we 
ffiinark,  as  an  interesting  and  practically  important  fact, 

*  Rush  en  the  Diseases  of  the  Mind,  p.  33$*. 


t76     DISOKDEllliL)  AClRJN  OF  THE  MORAL  SENSIBILlTrfiS 

Ihar  man  may  virtually  destroy  his  conscience.  Tliere  u 
sound  philosophy  in  the  well-known  passage  of  Juvenat, 
"  NEMO  REPENTE  FUiT  TURPissiMus."  The  truth  implied  in 
this  pass&ge  is  unquestionably  applicable  to  all  persons, 
with  the  exception  of  those  few  cases  where  the  moral 
derangement  is  natural  or  congenital.  A  man  is  not  in 
the  first  instance  turpissimus,  or  a  villain,  because  hia 
conscience  makes  resistance,  and  will  not  let  him  be  so 
But  if  the  energies  of  the  will  are  exercised  in  opposition 
to  the  conscience ;  if,  on  a  systematic  plan  and  by  a  per- 
manent effort,  the  remonstrancey  of  conscience  are  un- 
heeded and  its  action  repressed,  its  energies  will  be  found 
to  diminish,  and  its  very  existence  will  be  put  at  hazard 
There  is  no  doubt  that  in  this  way  the  conscience  may  be 
so  far  seared  as  to  be  virtually  annihilated.  Multitudes 
have  prepared  themselves  for  the  greatest  wickedness, 
and  have  become,  in  fact,  morally  insane,  by  iheir  own 
voluntary  doing.  There  is  a  passage  in  Beaumont,  in  his 
"  King  and  no  King,"  which  strikingly  indicates  the  prog  ■• 
ress  of  the  mind  in  such  cases. 

"  There  is  a  method  in  man's  wickedness  ; 
It  grows  up  by  degrees.      I  am  not  come 
So  high  as  Icilling  of  myself;  there  are 
A  hundred  thousand  sins  'twixt  it  and  me, 
Which  I  must  do.     I  shall  come  to't  at  last." 

We  say  in  such  cases  the  conscience  is  virtually  anm 
hilated.  And  by  this  remark  we  mean  that  it  is  inertj 
inefhcient,  dormant,  paralyzed.  We  do  not  mean  that  it. 
is  dead.  The  conscience  ne>er  dies.  Its  apparent  death 
is  impregnated  with  the  elements  of  a  real  and  terrible 
resurrection.  It  seems  to  gather  vivification  and  strength 
in  the  period  of  its  inactivity ;  and,  at  the  appointed  time 
of  its  reappearance,  inflicts  a  stern  and  fearful  retribu- 
tion, not  only  for  the  crimes  which  are  comm'.tted  against 
fathers,  but  for  the  iniquity  which  has*  been  perpetrated 
•ftgamst  itself. 

sS  448.   Of  «ccountability  in  connexion  with  this  form  of  disordered 
conscience. 

If  the  moral  sensibility,  under  the  system  of  repression 
which  has  been  mentioned,  refuses  to  act,  the  que.stion 
arises,  whether,  at  such  a  time,  a  person  is  morally  a.^^- 


JISORDEREIJ  ACTION  OF  THE  MORAL  SENSIBILITIES.      477 

countable  for  his  conduct.  As  his  conwiience  does  not 
condemn  him  in  what  he  does,  is  the  transaction,  what- 
ever its  nature,  a  criminal  one  1  There  can  be  but  one 
answer  to  this  question.  K  the  individual  is  not  con- 
demned by  his  conscience,  it  is  the  result  of  his  own  evil 
course.  We  may  illustrate  the  subject  by  a  case  which 
1.7  unhappily  too  frequent.  A  man  who  commits  a  crime 
i:  a  state  of  drunkenness,  may  plead  that  he  was  not,  ai 
the  time,  aware  of  the  guilt  of  his  conduct.  And  this 
BQay  be  true.  But  he  was  guilty  for  placing  himself  in  a 
situation  where  he  knew  he  would  be  likely  to  injure 
others,  or  in  some  other  way  commit  unlawful  acts.  His 
crime,  instead  of  being  diminished,  is  in  fact  increased. 
It  is  twofold.  He  is  guilty  of  drunkenness,  and  he  is 
guilty  of  everything  evil,  which  he  knew,  or  might  have 
known,  would  result  from  his  drunkenness. 

In  like  manner,  a  man  is  not  at  liberty  to  plead  that  he 
was  not,  in  the  commission  of  his  crimes,  condemned  by 
conscience,  if  it  be  the  fact  that  he  has,  by  a  previous 
process,  voluntarily  perverted  or  hardened  the  conscience. 
On  the  contrary,  it  would  be  fair  to  say,  as  in  the  case 
of  drunkenness,  that  he  has  increased  his  guilt ;  for  he 
has  added  to  the  guilt  of  the  thing  done,  the  antecedent 
and  still  greater  crime  of  aiming  a  blow  at  the  mind,  of 
striking  at  the  very  life  of  the  soul.  Practically  he  is  not 
self-condemned,  for  the  mere  reason  that  he  has  paraly- 
zed the  principle  by  which  the  sentence  of  self-condem- 
nation is  pronounced.  But  in  the  eye  of  immutable  jus- 
tice there  is  not  only  no  diminution  of  his  guilt,  but  it  ia 
inexpressibly  enhanced  by  the  attempts  to  murder,  if  we 
may  so  express  it,  the  principle  which,  more  than  any 
diing  else,  constitutes  the  dignity  and  glory  of  man's  na« 
are      (See  §403.) 

i)  449.  Of  natural  or  congenital  moral  derangement. 

The  other  form  of  moral  derangement  is  natural  or 
JI1NGENITAL.  We  do  not  know  that  we  are  authorized  to 
jay  that  men  are  by  nature,  in  any  case  whatever,  abso 
.niteLy  destitute  of  a  conscience ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand, 
nave  we  positive  grounds  for  asserting  that  this  is  not  llie 
case,      fheve  is  no  more  incopsistency  or  impossibilitv  it 


478      OlaUKDEREO  .iCTlON  OF  THE  IVK  KAL  SENSIBILIIIES- 

a  man's  coming  into  the  world  destitute  of  a  conscien(  ? 
than  there  is  in  his  being  born  without  the  powers  of 
memory,  comparison,  and  reasoning,  which  we  find  to  b* 
the  case  in  some  idiots.  But  certain  it  is,  that  there  art 
some  men  who  appear  to  have  naturally  a  vei-y  enfeebled 
conscience  ;  a  conscience  which  but  very  imperfectly  fill 
fils  its  office ;  and  who,  in  this  respect  at  least,  appear  to 
be  constituted  very  differently  from  the  great  body  of 
their  fellow-men.  They  exhibit  an  imbecilitj^,  or,  if  the 
expression  may  be  allow^ed,  an  idiocy  of  conscience,  which 
unouestionably  diminishes,  in  a  very  considerable  degree, 
their  moral  accountability.  A  number  of  those  writers 
who  have  examined  the  subject  of  Insanity  have  taken 
this  \iew,  and  have  given  instances  in  support  of  it. 

"In  the  course  of  my  life,"  says  Dr.  Rush,  "  I  have 
been  consulted  in  three  cases  of  the  total  perversion  of  the 
moral  faculties.  One  of  them  was  in  a  young  man  ;  the 
second  in  a  young  woman,  both  of  Virginia ;  a«d  the  third 
was  in  the  daughter  of  a  citizen  of  Philadelphia.  The 
last  was  addicted  to  every  kind  of  mischief.  Her  wick- 
edness  had  no  intervals  while  she  was  aw^ake,  except 
when  she  was  kept  busy  in  some  steady  and  difficult  em- 
ployment."    He  refers  also  to  instances  in  other  writers. 

Dr.  Haslara,in  his  Observations  on  Madness,  has  given 
two  decided  cases  of  moral  derangement.  One  of  these 
was  a  lad  about  ten  years  of  age.  Some  of  the  traits 
which  he  exhibited  were  as  follows.  He  early  showed 
an  impatience  and  irritability  of  temper,  and  became  so 
mischievous  and  uncontrollable  that  it  was  necessary  to 
appoint  a  person  to  watch  over  him.  He  gave  answei-s 
only  to  such  questions  as  pleased  him,  and  acted  in  op- 
poshion  to  every  direction.  "  On  the  first  interview  I  had 
with  him,"  says  Dr.  Haslam,  "  he  contrived,  after  twc  c? 
three  minutes'  acquaintance,  to  break  a  window  and  tea' 
tJip  frill  of  my  shirt.  He  was  an  unrelenting  foe  to  ?h 
china,  glass,  and  crockery-ware.  WTienever  they  can^ 
within  his  reach,  he  shivered  them  instantly.  In  walking 
the  street,  Ihe  keeper  was  compelled  to  take  the  wall,  as 
he  uniformly  broke  the  windows  if  he  could  get  ne^.^ 
them ;  and  this  operation  he  performed  so  dexterou?.)y 
and  wnth  such  safety  to  himself,  that  he  never  cut  his 


DiteOllDEREl)  ACTION  Ot   THE  MCKAL  SENSIFlLlTiSS.     479 

fingers.  To  tear  lace  and  destroy  the  finer  textures  o! 
female  ornament  seemed  to  gratify  him  exceedingly,  and 
he  seldom  walked  out  without  finding  an  occasion  of  in- 
dulging this  propensity.  He  never  became  attached  to 
any  inferior  animal,  a  benevolence  so  common  to  the  gen- 
erahty  of  children.  To  these  creatures  his  conduct  wa'' 
rt;at  of  the  brute ;  he  oppressed  the  feeble,  and  avoidifcd 
the  society  of  those  more  powerful  than  himself.  Con- 
siderable  practice  had  taught  him  that  he  was  the  cat's 
master;  and,  whenever  this  luckless  animal  approached 
bim  he  plucked  out  its  whiskers  with  wonderful  rapidity ; 
to  use  his  own  language,  '  /  must  have  her  heard  off? 
After  this  operation  he  commonly  threw  the  creatiu'e  on 
the  fire  or  through  the  window.  If  a  little  dog  came 
near  him,  he  kicked  d;  if  a  large  one,  he  would  not  no- 
tice it.  When  he  was  spoken  to,  he  usually  said,  '  I  do 
not  choose  to  answer.'  When  he  perceived  any  one  who 
appeared  to  observe  him  attentively,  he  always  said, 
'  Now  I  will  look  unpleasant.'  The  usual  games  of  chil- 
dren afforded  him  no  amusement;  whenever  boys  were 
at  play  he  never  joined  them  ;  indeed,  the  most  singular 
part  of  his  character  was,  that  he  appeared  inca])able  of 
forming  a  friendship  with  any  one ;  he  felt  no  considera- 
tion for  sex,  and  would  as  readily  kick  or  bite  a  girl  as  a 
boy.  Of  any  kindness  shown  him  he  was  equally  insen 
sib'le  ;  he  would  receive  an  orange  as  a  present,  and  af- 
terward throw  it  in  the  face  of  the  donor." 

This  unfortunate  lad  seems  sometimes  to  have  been 
sensible  of  his  melancholy  condition.  When,  on  a  certain 
occasion,  he  was  conducted  through  an  insane  hospital, 
and  a  mischievous  maniac  was  pointed  out  to  him  who  was 
'_aore  strictly  confined  than  the  rest,  he  said  to  his  attend- 
t;it,  "This  would  be  the  right  place  for  me."  He  often 
i  xpressed  a  wish  to  die ;  and  gave  as  a  reason,  "  Tha' 
(3od  had  not  made  him  hke  other  children." 

J  450.  Of  moral  accountability  in  cases  of  natu]  il  or  congeni  b1  morsil 
derangement. 

The  question  recurs  here,  also,  whether  persons  who 
^"8  the  subjects  of  a  natural  or  congenital  mo-al  deraage- 
ment  are  morally  accountable  and  in  what  degree.     li 


480     DISORDERED  ACTION  OF  THE  MORAL  SENSIBILITIES. 

there  is  naturally  an  entire  extinction  of  the  moral  t.ewas< 
•IS  in  some  cases  of  IJiocy  there  is  an  entire  extinction  of 
the  reasoning  power,  which,  although  it  may  not  frequent  • 
fy  happen,  is  at  least  a  supposable  case,  there  is  no  moraj 
81'xountability.  A  person  in  that  situation  can  have  no 
idea  •'>/  what  right  and  wrong  are ;  nor  can  he  be  con- 
A'Aous  C'f  doing  either  right  or  wrong  in  any  given  case ; 
Rndj  consequently,  being  without  either  merit  or  demer- 
it in  ^he.  moral  sense  of  the  terms,  he  is  not  the  proper 
swbjtct  of  reward  and  punisliment.  He  is  to  be  treated 
on  the  principles  that  are  applicable  to  idiots  and  insane 
[icrsons  generally. 

In  other  cases  where  the  mental  disorder  is  not  so  great, 
but  there  are  some  lingering  rays  of  moral  light,  some 
feeble  capability  of  moral  vision,  the  person  is  to  be  judg- 
ed, if  it  is  possible  to  ascertain  wdiat  it  is,  according  to 
what  is  given  him.  If  he  has  but  one  moral  talent,  it  is  not 
to  be  presumed  that  the  same  amount  of  moral  responsibil- 
ity rests  upon  him  as  upon  another  who  possesses  ten. 
The  doctrine  which  requires  men,  considered  as  subjects 
of  reward  and  punishment,  to  be  treated  alike,  without 
vegard  to  those  original  diversities  of  structure  which  may 
exist  in  all  the  departments  of  the  mind,  not  only  tendi 
to  confound  right  and  wrong,  but  is  abhorrent  to  the  dic- 
tates of  benevolence.  Many  individuals,  through  a  mis- 
understanding of  this  important  subject,  have  suffered  un- 
der the  hands  of  the  executioner,  who,  on  the  principles 
of  religion  and  strict  justice,  should  have  been  eiicircie?:! 
only  in  the  arws  { 'compa?sicn,  loag  =i^?ilferij>g,  and  charity 


MENTAL    PHILOSOPHY, 


DIVISION    THIED. 
THE     WILL. 

VOLITIONS,  OR  VOLITIONAL  STATES  OF  MIND. 
S  6 


CHAPTEE  I. 

GENERAL  NATURE   OF   THE   WILL. 
^  451.  The  will  the  third  and  last  department  of  the  mind. 

Man  has  the  Intellect,  by  wliich  he  perceives; 
Ihe  Sensibilities,  by  which  he  feels ;  and  also  the 
Will,  by  which  he  acts.  This  is  the  third  and  last 
great  department  of  the  mind.  We  proceed  now  to 
complete  this  abridged  and  concise  view  of  the  mind, 
by  giving  a  brief  account  of  the  Will. 

§  452.  On  the  nature  of  the  will. 

And  here  let  us  interpose  a  word  of  caution.  It  is 
not  to  be  inferred,  when  we  speak  of  one  part  of  the 
mind  in  distinction  from  another,  and  of  passing  from 
one  part  or  power  to  another,  that  the  mind  is  a  con- 
geries of  distinct  existences,  or  that  it  is,  in  any  literal 
and  material  sense  of  the  terms,  susceptible  of  divi- 
sion. Varieties  of  action  do  not  necessarily  imply  a 
want  of  unity  in  the  principle  from  which  they  orig- 
inate. The  mental  principle,  therefore,  is  indivisible. 
In  itself  it  is  truly  and  essentially  a  unity,  though 
multiplied,  in  a  manner  calculated  to  excite  the  great- 
est astonishment,  in  its  modes  of  application.  It  is 
merely  one  of  these  modes  of  its  application,  or,  rath- 
er, one  of  these  modes  of  its  exercise,  which  is  indi- 
cated by  the  term  Will.  Accordingly,  the  term  Will 
is  not  meant  to  express  anything  separate  from  the 
mind;  but  merely  embodies  and  expresses  the  fact 
of  the  mind's  operating  in  a  particular  way. 

And  hence  the  Will  may  properly  enough  be  de- 
fined the  mental  power  or  susceptibility  by 
WHICH  WE  PUT  FORTH  VOLITIONS. — And,  in  accord- 
ance with  this  definition,  if  we  wish  to  understand 
more  fully  what  the  nature  of  the  power  is,  we  must 
look  at  its  results,  and  examine  the  nature  of  those 
states  of  mind  which  it  gives  rise  to. — "It  is  neces- 


484  VOLITIOXS,  OR 

sar}' ,"  says  Mr.  Stewart  very  justlj^,  "  to  form  a  dis- 
tinct notion  of  what  is  meant  by  the  word  volition^  in 
order  to  understand  the  import  of  the  word  will;  for 
this  last  word  properly  expresses  that  2>oiver  of  the 
mind,  of  which  volition  is  the  act^  and  it  is  only  by 
attending  to  what  we  experience  while  we  are  con- 
scious of  the  act,  that  we  can  understand  anything 
concerning  the  nature  of  the  power."* 

§  453.  Of  the  nature  of  the  acts  of  the  will  or  volitions. 
Of  volitions,  which  are  the  results  of  the  existence 
and  exercise  of  the  volitional  power,  we  are  unable  to 
give  any  definition  in  words,  which  will  of  itself  make 
them  clearly  understood.  They  are  simple  states  of 
the  mind,  and  that  circumstance  alone  precludes  the 
possibility  of  a  definition,  in  any  strict  and  proper 
sense  of  the  term.  It  is  true,  we  may  call  them  de- 
terminations or  decisions  of  the  mind,  or  resolutions 
of  the  mind,  or  acts  of  choice,  and  the  like,  but  this  is 
only  the  substitution  of  other  terms,  which  themselves 
•need  explanation  ;  and,  of  course,  it  throws  no  light 
upon  the  subject  of  inquiry.  And  hence  we  are 
thrown  back  upon  our  consciousness,  as  we  are  in  all 
cases  where  the  nature  of  the  simple  states  of  mind  ia ' 
the  matter  of  investigation.  And  whenever  we  have 
made  this  appeal  to  the  internal  experience,  and  have 
received  its  testimony,  we  are  then  placed  in  the  pos- 
session of  all  that  knowledge  which  the  nature  of  the 
case  seems  to  admit  of.  And  we  must  suppose  that 
every  one  has,  in  some  degree,  done  this.  It  is  not 
presumable,  at  least  it  is  not  at  all  probable,  that  men 
who  are  constantly  in  action,  pursuing  one  course  and 
avoiding  another,  adopting  one  plan  and  rejecting  an- 
other, accepting  and  refusing,  befriending  and  oppos- 
ing, all  which  things,  and  many  others,  imply  voli- 
tional action,  are  still  ignorant  of  what  an  act  of  the 
Will  is. 

§  454.  Volition  never  exists  without  some  object. 
Although  we  are  obliged  to  depend  chiefly  upon 

*  Philosophy  of  the  Moral  and  Active  Powers,  Appendix  ■.,§!. 


VOLITIONAL    STATES    OF    M12slX  485 

consciousness  for  a  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  voli- 
tions, it  is  still  true  that  we  can  make  some  statements 
in  respect  to  them  which  may  aid  us  in  forming  our 
opinions.  Among  other  things,  it  is  an  obvious  re- 
mark, Ihat  every  act  of  the  will  must  have  an  object.  A 
very  slight  reflection  on  the  subject  will  evince  this. 
It  is  the  same  here  as  in  respect  to  the  act  of  thought, 
of  memory,  and  of  association,  all  of  which  imply 
some  object,  in  reference  to  which  the  mental  act  is 
called  forth. 

"  Every  act  of  the  will,"  says  Dr.  Reid,  "  must  have 
an  object.  He  that  wills  must  will  something ;  and 
that  which  he  wills  is  called  the  object  of  his  volition. 
As  a  man  cannot  think  without  thinking  of  some- 
thing, nor  remember  without  remembering  some- 
thing, so  neither  can  he  will  without  willing  some- 
thing. Every  act  of  will,  therefore,  must  have  an  ob- 
ject; and  the  person  who  wills  must  have  some  con- 
ception, more  or  less  distinct,  of  what  he  wills."* 

§  455.  It  exists  only  in  reference  to  what  we  believe  to  be  in  our 
power. 

Another  circumstance  may  be  pointed  out  in  illus- 
tration of  volitions,  viz.,  that  they  neve)'  exist  in  respect 
to  those  things  which  we  helieve  to  he  wholly  heyond  our 
reach.  As  no  man  believes  that  it  is  in  his  power  to 
fly  in  the  air  like  a  bird,  so  we  never  find  a  person 
putting  forth  a  volition  to  do  so.  As  no  man  be- 
lieves that  he  can  originate  what  never  had  a  being 
before ;  in  other  words,  that  he  can  create  a  new  ex- 
istence out  of  nothing,  so  we  never  find  a  man  de- 
termining, resolving,  or  willing  to  that  effect.  In- 
deed, we  are  obviously  so  constituted,  that,  whenever 
we  believe  an  object  to  be  wholly  and  absolutely  be- 
yond our  power,  volition  does  not  and  cannot  exist 
in  respect  to  it.  The  farmer,  for  instance,  in  a  time 
of  severe  drought,  desires  rain,  but  he  does  not  will  it. 
He  is  conscious  of  a  desire,  but  he  is  not  conscious  of 
a  volition.  The  very  nature  of  the  mind  interposes 
in  such  a  case,  and  effectually  obstructs  the  origina- 

*  Reid's  Essays  on  the  Active  Powers,  Essay  ii.,  ch.  i. 
S  6  2 


486  VOLITIONS,  OR 

tion  of  the  volitional  act.  And  this  is  so  promptlj* 
and  decisively  done,  and  done  too  in  all  cases  with- 
out exception,  that  we  find  it  very  difficult  even  to 
conceive  of  anything  which  we  are  certain  is  wholly 
beyond  our  power,  as  being  an  object  of  the  will's  ac- 
tion. There  may  be  a  desire  in  such  cases,  but  there 
t,is  no  volition. 

And  the  usage  of  language  will  be  found  to  throw 
'light  on  this  distinction,  making  the  term  desire  ap- 
plicable both  to  what  is  within  our  reach  and  what  ia 
not;  and  the  term  volition  applicable  only  to  the 
former.  In  some  cases  we  speak  of  willing  or  determ- 
ining to  do  a  thing,  while  in  others  we  invariably 
limit  ourselves  to  the  mere  expression  of  a  wish  or 
desire.  Accordingly,  it  would  comport  with  and  be 
required  by  the  usage  of  language,  if  our  thoughts 
and  conversation  were  directed  to  those  matters,  to 
say,  that  we  determine  or  will  to  walk,  but  desire  to 
fly  ;  that  we  will  to  build  a  house,  but  desire  to  create 
a  world. 

§  456.   Volition  relates  to  our  own  action  and  to  whatever  else  may 
be  dependent  upon  us. 

Although  the  statements  thus  far  made  tend  to 
throw  some  light  upon  the  nature  of  the  Will's  acts, 
something  further  remains  to  be  remarked.  It  doe9' 
not  seem  definite  enough  merely  to  assert,  that  voli- 
tions relate  solely  to  those  things  which  are  in  our 
power,  or  are  believed  to  be  so.  We  may  inquira 
further  what  is  meant  by  being  in  our  power,  and 
how  far  the  import  of  the  phrase  may  justly  extend 
itself — And  hence  it  is  necessary  to  add,  that  voli- 
tions relate,  in  the  first  place,  to  our  own  action,  either 
some  bodily  movement  or  some  act  of  the  mind.  In 
saying  this,  however,  we  do  not  mean  to  say  that  vo- 
lition is  necessarily  limited  to  Vae,  present  action.  We 
may  will  to  perform  something  of  the  simplest  kind, 
which  will  exact,  in  its  execution,  merely  the  present 
moment,  or  something  of  a  more  complicated  nature, 
which  will  require  no  inconsiderable  time.  Any  se- 
ries of  actions,  intellectual  or  bodily,  capable  of  be 


VOLITIONAL    STATES   OF    MlND.  487 

ing  performed  by  us,  whicti  the  understanding  can 
embrace  as  one,  and  by  means  of  any  relations  exist- 
ing among  them  can  consolidate  into  one,  the  will 
can  resolve  upon  as  one.  So  that  the  action,  depend- 
ent upon  volition,  may  be  the  mere  movement  of  the 
foot  or  finger ;  or,  it  may  be  the  continuous  labours 
of  a  day,  a  week,  or  a  year,  or  some  long  and  peril- 
pus  expedition  by  land  or  sea.  It  is  just  as  proper 
%o  say  that  a  man  wills  to  take  a  voyage  to  England, 
as  to  say  that  he  wills  to  put  one  foot  before  the  oth 
er  in  stepping  from  his  door  to  the  street. 

Volition  may  exist,  in  the  second  place,  in  respect 
to  anything  and  everything  which  is  truly  depend, 
ent  upon  us,  however  circuitous  and  remote  that  de- 
pendence may  be.  It  is  proper  to  say  that  a  mer 
chant  has  determined  or  willed  to  fit  a  vessel  or  ^ 
number  of  vessels  for  sea,  and  to  send  them  to  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  world,  although  his  own  direct  and 
personal  agency  in  the  thing  is  hardly  known.  The 
effect  of  his  volitioUj  extending  far  beyond  his  own 
direct  and  personal  capabilities,  controls  the  acts  of  a 
multitude  of  individuals  who  are  dependent  on  him. 
Previous  to  the  commencement  of  his  celebrated  ex- 
pedition into  Eussia,  the  Emperor  Napoleon  undoubt- 
edly brought  all  the  objects  relative  to  the  intended 
expedition  distinctly  before  his  understanding;  the 
number  and  the  kind  of  troops,  the  arms  and  ammu- 
nition with  which  they  were  to  be  furnished,  the 
means  of  subsistence  in  the  various  countries  through 
which  they  were  to  pass,  and  the  expenses  incident 
to  the  arming  and  support  of  a  body  so  numerous. 
The  action  of  the  intellect  enabled  him  to  assimilate 
and  combine  this  vast  complexity  of  objects  into  one. 
Although  numberless  in  its  parts  and  details,  it  as- 
sumed, as  it  passed  before  the  rapid  glances  of  his  un- 
derstanding, an  identity  and  oneness,  which,  for  all 
the  purposes  of  volition  and  action,  constituted  it  one 
thing.  And,  accordingly,  it  is  altogether  proper  to 
say,  that  Napoleon  purposed,  determined,  or  ivilled  the 
expedition  into  Eussia,  although  the  agencies  requi- 
site to  carry  it  into  effect  were  not  lodged  directly  in 


488  VOLITIONS,   OK 

himself,  but  in  millions  of  subordinate  instruments, 
that  were  more  or  less  remotely  dependent  upon  him. 
Certain  it  is,  if  he  had  not  put  forth  his  volition,  the 
subordinate  instrumentalities,  however  numerous  and 
powerful  in  themselves,  -would  never  have  united  in 
and  secured  the  result  in  question. 

§  457.   Volitions  involve  a  prospective  element. 

Another  mark  or  characteristic  of  volitions,  by 
which  they  are  distinguished  from  some,  though  not 
fi-om  all  states  of  the  mind,  is,  that  they  have  exclu- 
sive relation  to  the  future,  to  something  which  is  to 
be  done. — A  volition  is  "futuritive"  in  its  very  na- 
ture ;  it  involves  in  itself,  and  as  a  part  of  its  own  es- 
sentiality, a  prospective  element;  it  has  no  capacity 
of  turning  its  eye  backward,  but  always  looks  for- 
ward. 

An  intellective  or  perceptive  act  rests  in  itself.  As 
soon  as  it  assumes  the  form  of  a  cognition  or  knowl- 
edge, it  accomplishes,  so  far  as  its  own  nature  is  con- 
cerned, the  mission  for  which  it  was  sent.  It  takes 
its  position,  and  there  it  stands;  furnishing  an  occa- 
sion, it  is  true,  for  other  feelings  to  exist  and  to  oper- 
ate, but  in  itself  remaining  not  only  complete,  but  sat- 
isfied and  quiescent. 

But  it  is  not  so  with  a  volition,  which,  from  its  very 
nature,  cannot  rest  satisfied  with  the  mere  fact  of  its 
own  existence.  If  we  may  be  allowed  the  expres- 
sions, it  continually  reaches  forth  its  hand  to  grasp 
objects  which  have  not  as  yet  a  being.  In  other 
words,  it  always  has  in  view  something  which  is  to 
take  place  hereafter ;  something  which  is  to  be  done, 
the  completion  of  which  is,  therefore,  necessarily  fu- 
ture. This  trait  is  an  element  of  its  nature,  or,  rath- 
er, is  naturally  and  necessarily  involved  in  its  nature, 
and  may  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  characteristics 
which  help  to  distinguish  it  from  the  perceptive  and 
emotive  states  of  the  mind  at  least,  if  not  from  others. 

§  458.   Volitions  may  exist  with  various  degrees  of  strength. 
There  is  one  additional  characteristic  of  volitions 


VOLITIONAL    STATES    OF    MINI).  489 

wortliy  of  some  notice,  viz.,  that  the  vohtion  does  not 
alwaj-s  exist  with  the  same  degree  of  force.  Undoubt- 
edly"^ every  one  must  have  been  conscious,  that  the 
exercise  of  the  voluntary  power  is  more  prompt  and 
energetic  at  some  times  than  others.  We  are  aware 
that  it  is  liable  to  be  objected  to  this  statement,  that 
if  we  will  to  do  a  thing,  there  can  be  nothing  less  than 
the  volition ;  and  that  it  is  necessarily  the  same  under 
all  circumstances.  And  it  is  undoubtedly  true,  that 
we  never  will  to  do  an  act  with  anything  less  than  a 
volition ;  and  that,  if  there  be  any  act  of  the  will  at 
all,  it  is  one  truly  and  fully  so.  That  is  to  say,  the 
act  is  in  all  cases  the  same,  as  far  as  its  intrinsic  na- 
ture is  concerned.  And  yet  we  may  confidently  urge, 
there  is  no  inconsistency  in  saying  that  it  may  exist 
with  different  degrees  of  force. 

The  existence  of  a  mental  state,  which  is  always  the 
same  in  its  nature,  in  different  degrees,  is  not  peculiar 
to  volition.  The  same  trait  is  characteristic  of  the 
mental  act  in  all  cases  where  we  yield  our  assent  or 
belief  The  state  of  mind  which  we  denominate  be- 
lief is  undoubtedly  alwaj^s  the  same  in  its  nature,  but 
admitting  of  various  degrees.  We  determine  these 
differences  of  strength  in  the  feeling  by  means  of  that 
same  internal  consciousness  which  assures  us  of  the 
existence  of  the  mere  feeling  itself.  In  other  words, 
we  are  conscious  of,  or  feel  our  belief  to  be  sometimes 
weaker  and  at  other  times  stronger,  which  we  express 
by  various  terms,  such  as  presumption,  probability, 
high  probability,  and  certainty.  And  by  appealing 
in  the  same  way  to  our  consciousness  of  what  takes 
place  within,  we  shall  probably  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  we  put  forth  the  act  of  volition  with  much 
greater  strength  at  some  times  than  others ;  that  at 
some  times  it  is  so  feeble  as  hardly  to  be  distinguish- 
ed from  a  mere  desire  or  wish,  and  is  scarcely  recog- 
nised as  a  volition,  while  at  other  times  it  is  exceed- 
ingly marked  and  energetic. 


430        ON  THE  LAWS  OF  THE  WILL. 


CHAPTER  11. 

ON   THE    LAWS   OF   THE   WILL. 
§  4:59.   On  the  universality  of  law. 

The  will  is  free ;  but  it  is  also  true,  that  it  acts  in 
connection  with  laio.  In  entering  specifically  upon  the 
question,  whether  the  will  is  susceptible  of  determi- 
nate principles  or  laws  of  action,  we  may  reason  in 
support  of  that  view,  in  the  first  place,  from  the  gen- 
eral likeness  or  analogy  of  nature.  If  the  universe  is 
everywhere  legibly  inscribed  and  written  over  with 
the  great  truth,  that  all  things  are  subject  to  law,  are 
we  not  furnished  with  a  strong  presumption  that  we 
shall  not  discover  an  exception  in  any  part  of  man's 
mental  nature?  As  to  the  alleged  fact  on  which  we 
base  this  presumption,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  it. — 
Let  us  look,  in  the  first  place,  at  material  things.  The 
parts  of  the  earth  are  kept  in  their  relative  position 
byithe  operation  of  some  fixed  law;  the  various  im- 
mense bodies,  composing  the  system  to  which  the 
earth  belongs,  are  made  to  revolve  in  obedience  to 
some  unalterable  principle ;  there  is  not  even  a  plant, 
or  a  stone,  or  a  falling  leaf,  or  a  grain  of  sand,  which 
can  claim  an  exemption  from  regulation  and  control. 
And  what  is  true  in  these  few  instances,  is  true  in  all. 
"No  certain  and  undoubted  exception  can  be  found. 

And  this  great  truth  holds  good  also  of  things  which 
have  life  and  intelligence.  Objects  of  a  spiritual  or 
mental  nature  (if  not  in  precisely  the  same  sense  in 
which  the  assertion  is  applicable  to  matter,  yet  in 
some  true  and  important  meaning  of  the  expressions) 
have  their  appropriate  and  determinate  principles  of 
being  and  action.  There  may,  indeed,  be  some  things 
which  are  as  yet  unexplainable  by  man  ;  there  may 
be  some  objects  of  knowledge,  to  the  full  understand- 
ing of  whose  nature  limited  human  reason  cannot  as 
yet  reach  ;  but  still  the  vast  majority  of  objects,  com- 
ing within  the  ordinary  range  of  our  inspection,  ob- 


ON    THE    LAWS    OF    THE    WILL.  491 

viouslj  tend  to  found  and  to  foster  the  general  con- 
viction, that  there  are  laws  wherever  there  are  exist* 
ences,  whatever  the  kind  or  nature  of  the  existence. — 
There  is,  therefore,  undoubted  truth  in  the  remark  of 
Montesquieu,  with  which  he  introduces  his  great  work 
on  the  Spirit  of  Laws,  where  he  says,  after  some  sug- 
gestions on  the  meaning  of  the  term,  "  all  beings  have 
their  laws,  the  Deity  his  laws,  the  material  world  its 
laws,  the  intelligences  superior  to  man  their  laws,  the 
beasts  their  laws,  man  his  laws." 

§  460.  Remarks  of  Hooker  on  the  universality  of  law. 

"Of  law,"  says  the  learned  Hooker  in  a  passage 
often  quoted,  "  no  less  can  be  said  than  that  her  seat 
is  the  bosom  of  God,  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the 
world ;  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  do  her  homage, 
the  very  least  as  feeling  her  care,  the  greatest  as  not 
exempted  from  her  power ;  both  angels  and  men,  and 
creatures  of  what  condition  soever,  though  each  in 
different  spheres  and  manner,  yet  all  with  uniform 
consent  admiring  her  as  the  mother  of  their  peace 
and  joy."* 

It  is  a  sublime  truth,  that  law,  the  great  bond  of  the 
universe,  finds  its  origin  and  support  in  the  bosom  of 
the  Deity,  and  is,  in  its  basis  or  elements,  co-substan- 
tial with  his  nature ;  and  going  forth  frqm  that  prim- 
itive and  prolific  centre  in  every  possible  direction, 
like  rays  frojn  the  sun,  embraces,  harmonizes,  and 
controls  every  form  and  modification  of  being,  wheth- 
er intelligent  or  unintelligent.  And  how  full  of 
grandeur  and  of  consolation  is  the  thought !  If  we 
could  suppose  that  even  a  single  unintelligent  atom 
had  broken  loose  from  the  countless  extensions  and 
applications  of  the  great  Principle  of  Unity,  which  is 
only  another  name  for  that  law  which  binds  one  ex- 
istence to  another,  and  both  to  a  third,  and  all  to  the 
great  central  and  superintendent  Power,  it  would  not 
fail  to  fill  us  with  misgivings  and  anguish.  The  doc- 
trine of  the  universality  of  law,  which  is  the  same  as 
the  universality  of  power  under  the  guidance  of  fixed 

*   Hooker's  Ecele*instical  Polity,  l)ook  i- 


492  ON   THE   LAWS   OF   THE   WILL. 

principles,  recommends  itself  to  the  heart  as  well  as 
the  understanding,  and  dispenses  happiness  while  it 
controls  conviction.  Is  any  one  prepared  to  say  that 
he  is  not  rendered  happy  in  the  recollection  that  God 
is  around  us  and  in  us  ?  Is  it  not  a  source  of  consola- 
tion, that  his  paternal  eye  rests  for  ever  upon  our 
path  ;  that  he  knoweth  our  lying  down  and  rising  up, 
our  going  out  and  coming  in  ?  And  that,  while  he 
superintends  the  minutest  actions  and  events  pertain- 
ing to  ourselves,  He  extends  abroad,  amid  the  num- 
berless varieties  of  existence,  the  watchfulness  of  his 
pervading  control, 

"And  fills,  and  bounds,  connects  and  equals  all?" 

MGL  A  presumption  thus  furnished  in  favor  of  the  subjection  of 
the  will  to  law. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  pursue  this  subject,  when 
contemplated  under  this  general  form,  at  much  length. 
What  has  been  said  will  answer  our  present  purpose. 
If  the  doctrine  of  the  universality  of  law  be  tenable, 
what  shall  we  say  of  the  Will  ?  Does  not  the  posi- 
tion, that  the  Will  is  not  subject  to  laws,  imply  an 
anomaly  in  the  universe?  Whatever  is  not  under 
some  sort  of  control,  but  is  entirely  irregular,  contin- 
gent, and  exempt  from  all  conditions,  is  necessarily 
irresponsible  to  the  supervision  of  any  thing,  even 
God  himself.  We  have,  then,  an  exceedingly  strong 
presumption,  when  we  look  at  the  subject  in  the  most 
general  light,  in  favour  of  the  proposition  that  the 
Will  has  its  laws. 


LAWS   OF   THE   WILL,  ETC.  493 


CHAPTER  m 

LAWS   OF   THE   WILL   IMPLIED   IN    THE   PRESCIENCE 
OR   FORESIGHT   OF   THE    DEITY. 

§  462.  The  notion  which  men  naturally  form  of  the  Deity  implies 
foreknowledge. 

In  further  proof  of  the  general  proposition  that  the 
Will  has  its  laws,  we  now  enter  very  brieflj  upon 
some  distinct  trains  of  thought.  In  the  present  chap- 
ter we  propose  to  bring  forward  in  its  support  thej 
Prescience  of  the  Deity. 

And  we  naturally  remark,  in  the  first  place,  that 
the  idea  which  all  men  agree  in  forming  of  the  Deity 
implies  foreknowledge.  We  do  not  have  reference 
in  this  remark  to  the  light  which  Revelation  throws 
upon  this  subject,  but  refer  merely  to  the  notion  of 
the  Deity  which  men  form  of  themselves.  In  all 
countries  and  among  all  classes  of  men  ;  in  the  cheer- 
less hut  of  the  Esquimaux  ;  in  the  rude  dwellings  of 
the  uncivilized  tribes  inhabiting  the  islands  of  the 
Pacific ;  in  the  tent  of  the  vagrant  Arab,  as  well  as 
among  those  who  are  refined  by  the  arts  and  enlight- 
ened by  science,  we  find  the  notion  of  a  God.  The 
conception  may  indeed  be  a  feeble  and  imperfect  one, 
compared  with  that  developed  in  the  Scriptures ;  but, 
feeble  as  it  is,  it  always  includes  the  idea  of  Presci- 
ence or  Foresight  in  a  much  higher  degree  than  is 
possessed  by  men.  The  very  heathen  would  scoff  at 
the  idea  of  a  God  whose  knowledge  is  limited  to  the 
present  moment. 

§  463.  The  prescience  of  God  directly  taught  in  the  Scriptures. 

The  divine  prescience  or  foresight  is  distinctly 
made  known  in  a  multitude  of  passages  of  Scripture. 
The  Supreme  Being  himself,  in  the  language  ascribed 
to  Him  by  the  prophet  Isaiah,  asserts,  "I  am  God, 
and  there  is  none  lilce  me,  declaring  the  end  from  the 
Tt 


494         LAWS    OF    THE    WILL    IMPLIED    IN    THE 

beginning^  and  from  ancient  times  the  things  that  are 
not  yet  done."  "  Known  unto  God,"  says  the  apos- 
tle James,  "are  all  his  works, /ro?7i  the  beginning  of 
the  worW"^ 

Nor  does  the  doctrine  of  God's  foreknowledge  rest 
upon  general  statements  alone;  but  we  have  in- 
stances, again  and  again,  of  predictions,  uttered  long 
before  the  events  came  to  pass,  which  were  strictly 
fulfilled.  The  deluge  was  predicted  one  hundred  and 
twenty  years  before  it  came  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
It  was  foretold  that  the  children  of  Israel  should  be 
in  bondage  four  hundred  years.  The  cruel  conduct 
of  the  Syrian  Hazael,  and  the  deliverance  wrought 
out  by  the  hand  of  the  Persian  Cyrus,  are  matters  of 
precise  and  specific  prediction.  The  destruction  of 
Babylon  and  of  Nineveh,  with  many  of  the  circum- 
stances attending  their  overthrow,  was  predicted  also, 
l^he  coming  and  the  preaching  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
jiarticularly  his  humiliation,  trials,  and  death,  were 
foretold  by  the  mouths  of  holy  men  many  years,  and 
civen  ages,  before  the  events  themselves  took  place. 
The  destruction  of  Jerusalem  (not  to  mention  other 
instances  equally  decisive  in  their  bearmg  on  ihis 
suljject)  was  depicted  long  before  it  happened,  and 
with  a  wonderful  particularity  and  vividness. — In 
view  of  these  facts,  and  others  like  them,  we  have 
only  to  make  the  remark  that  predictions  so  numer- 
ous and  specific,  and  so  exactly  fulfilled,  could  not 
have  been  uttered  without  the  possession  of  R)re- 
knowledge  or  prescience  on  the  part  of  their  au- 
thor. 

§  464.  The  foreknowledge  of  events  implies  the  foreknowledge  of 
volitions. 

And  it  is  further  to  be  noticed,  in  regard  to  many, 
if  not  all  the  events  which  have  taken  place  in  ac- 
cordance with  such  predictions  as  those  referred  to  in 
the  last  section,  that  they  were  dependent  on  thb  vo- 
htions  of  men.  The  voluntary  actions  of  men  n«^ces- 
sarily  imply  the  antecedent  exercise  of  volitions;  j^nd^ 

*  Isainh  xlvi.,  9.  10;   Acts  xv.,  18 


I'RESCIENCE   OF   THE   DEITY.  493 

such  being  the  fixed  relation  between  volitions  and 
actions,  it  is  ditficult  to  suppose  that  any  being  what- 
ever should  foresee  the  actions  of  men  without  a  fore- 
sight, at  the  same  time,  of  their  volitious.  As  an  il- 
lustration, it  was  foretold  to  Abraham  that  his  de- 
scendants should  go  into  Egypt,  and  should  take  up 
their  residence  there ;  but  such  a  prediction  evident- 
ly implies  a  knowledge  of  all  the  circumstances  un- 
der which  this  event  should  take  place,  including,  in 
■particular,  every  motive  and  every  volition  connect- 
ed with  it.  Such  a  prediction  implies  a  knowledge, 
not  only  of  the  volitions  and  acts  of  the  immediate 
agents  in  the  events  foretold,  but  of  those  persons  also 
who  were  concerned  in  them  incidentally  and  collat- 
erally. In  the  present  case,  it  implies  a  knowledge 
of  the  jealousies  of  Joseph's  brethren,  and  of  their 
perverse  and  wicked  conduct  in  selling  him  to  the 
Ishmaelites ;  it  implies  a  knowledge  of  the  wants,  in- 
terests, and  motives  of  the  Ishmaelites  themselves,  not 
to  mention  the  situation  and  motives  of  other  indi- 
viduals and  bodies  of  men,  which  were  undoubtedlji 
among  the  preparatory  steps  and  means  to  the  won- 
derful events  which  followed. 

Every  one  knows  that  events  of  the  greatest  mag- 
nitude are  dependent  upon  circumstances  apparently 
the  most  trivial.  It  is  a  remark  of  Dr.  Dwight,  that 
the  "  motions  of  a  fly  are  capable  of  terminating  the 
most  important  human  life,  or  of  changing  all  the  fu- 
ture designs  of  a  man,  and  altering  the  character,  cir- 
cumstances, and  destiny  of  his  descendants  through- 
out time  and  eternity."*  Now,  if  these  things  are  so,- 
it  cannot  for  a  moment  be  conceded  that  God  fore- 
knows and  predicts  events  without  a  knowledge  of 
all  those  circumstances,  even  the  most  trivial,  upon 
which  those  events  may,  by  any  possibility,  be  de- 
pendent. In  particular,  and  above  all.  He  must  be 
minutely  and  fully  acquainted  with  the  volitive  acta 
or  volitions  of  the  immediate  agents  in  them.  In  fore- 
seeing events  in  which  men  are  concerned,  He  must, 
of  course,  foresee  what  men  will  do  ;  but  it  is  infio;> 
*  D wight's  Theology,  Sermon  vi 


496    LAWS  OF  THE  WILL  IMPLIED  IN  THE 

ccivable  that  he  should  know  this  without  knowing 
what  volitions  thej  will  put  forth. 

§  4G5.  Application  of  these  views  to  the  wiU. 

But  if  it  satisfactorily  appears  that  God  foreknows 
all  things,  particularly  the  volitions  of  men,  then  it 
clearly  follows  that  the  volitional  power  or  Will  has 
its  laws.  The  opposite  of  an  action  which  is  in  har- 
mony with  law  is  perfect  contingency ;  and  the  very 
idea  of  contingency  or  of  contingent  action  implies 
that  it  is  something  which  cannot  possibly  be  fore- 
known. Whatever  is  foreknown  must  be  foreknown 
to  exist  at  a  particular  time  or  place,  or  under  some 
particular  circumstances;  but  that  action  or  event, 
which  it  is  ascertained  and  certain  will  exist  at  a  par- 
ticular time  or  place,  or  under  any  particular  and  def- 
inite circumstances,  cannot,  with  any  propriety  of  lan- 
guage, be  deemed  a  perfectly  contingent  one.  Since, 
therefore,  nothing  which  is  foreknown  is  contingent, 
and  since  the  volitions  of  men  are  obviously  the  sub- 
jects of  foreknowledge,  it  follows  that  there  must  be 
some  definite  laws  or  principles  by  which  the  action 
of  the  voluntary  power  is,  to  some  extent,  regulated. 

§  4G6.  The  views  of  this  chapter  in  harmony  with  the  doctrine  of 
the  inliuences  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

As  in  some  respects  closely  connected  with  the 
views  of  this  chapter,  we  may  here,  with  propriety, 
refer  to  the  Scripture  doctrine  that  God,  through  the 
influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  has  the  power,  and, 
when  in  bis  providence  He  sees  fit,  exerts  the  power, 
of  enlightening,  sanctifying,  and  guiding  the  minds 
of  men.  The  reader  of  the  Bible  will  naturally  be 
reminded  here  of  the  Saviour's  interesting  expres- 
sions on  this  subject,  which  are  found  in  the  conclud- 
ing chapters  of  the  Gospel  of  John  :  "  I  will  pray  the 
Father,  and  he  shall  give  you  another  Comforter,  that 
he  may  abide  with  you  for  ever."  "And  the  Com- 
forter,'which  is  the  Holy  Ghost,  whom  the  Father 
•will  send  in  my  name,  He  shall  teach  you  all  things, 
and  bring  all  things  to  your  remembrance,  whatso- 


PRESCIENCE    OR    FORESIGHT   OF   MEN.  497 

ever  I  have  said  unto  you."  John  xiv.,  16,  26. — "  So 
they,  being  sent  forth  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  departed 
unto  Seleucia." — "  Then  Saul,  who  is  also  called  Paul, 
filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  set  his  eyes  upon  him, 
and  said,  Oh  full  of  all  subtlety,"  &c. — "  And  were 
forbidden  of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  preach  the  word  in 
Asia."  Acts  xiii.,  4,  9  ;  xvi.,  6. — "  Which  things  also 
we  speak,  not  in  the  words  which  man's  wisdom 
teacheth,  but  which  the  Holy  Ghost  teacheth,"  1 
Cor.  ii.,  13. — "  Holy  men  of  God  spake  as  they  were 
moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost."     2  Pet.  i.,  21. 

All  these  passages,  and  others  like  them,  necessari- 
ly imply  that  the  human  mind,  whatever  may  be  true 
of  its  freedom  and  responsibility,  is,  nevertheless,  sus- 
ceptible of  being  held  in  subordination  to  the  all-per- 
vading and  transcendent  control  of  the  Supreme  In- 
tellisence. 


CHAPTER  lY. 

LAWS   OF   THE   WILL    IMPLIED   IN   THE   PRESCIENCE 
OR  FORESIGHT   OF   MEN. 

§  467.  Man  as  well  as  Deity  susceptible  of  foresight. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  objected  by  some  that  the  ar- 
gument drawn  from  the  prescience  of  the  Deity  is  less 
satisfactory  than  it  would  otherwise  be,  in  consequence 
of  the  unspeakable  elevation  and  incomprehensible- 
ness  of  the  Divine  Mind.  That  the  divine  mind  is, 
in  some  respects,  incomprehensible  by  man,  is  true ; 
but  it  does  not  follow  that  an  argument,  founded  upon 
what  we  know  and  can  understand  of  the  divine  na- 
ture, is  therefore  incomprehensible  or  even  obscure. 
But  whatever  weight,  whether  more  or  less,  may  be 
conceded  to  this  objection,  we  come  to  another  view 
of  the  subject,  analogous  indeed  to  that  of  the  last 
chapter,  but  drawn  from  a  different  source,  and  level 
to  every  one's  comprehension.  Man  himself,  restrict 
ed  and  dimmed  as  his  conceptions  undoubtedly  are, 
has  a  prescience  of  the  future,  a  foresight  of  what  is 
Tt2 


498         LAWS    OF   THE    WILL    IMPLIEb    IN    THE 

to  come  to  pass,  as  well  as  the  adorable  Being  who 
made  him.  Not  in  an  equal  degree  indeed,  but  stili 
irx  some  degree.  And  this  fact  also  goes  to  confirm 
the  position  which  we  are  now  examining  in  regard 
to  the  Will. 

§  468.  Prescience  or  foresight  of  men  in  respect  to  their  own  situa- 
tion and  conduct. 

In  the  first  place,  man  can  foretell  (we  do  not  say 
with  perfect  certainty,  nor  is  that  at  all  essential  to 
our  argument)  his  own  situation,  actions,  and  success 
at  some  future  time. 

Take  a  very  simple  illustration,  A  man  proposes 
to  go  to  Boston  or  New- York,  or  to  some  place  of 
common  resort,  no  matter  where  it  is,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  transacting  business  there.  The  execution 
of  a  design  of  this  nature,  although  it  is  difficult  to 
mention  one  more  common  and  simple,  implies  the 
putting  forth  of  hundreds  and  thousands  of  volitions. 
And  it  is  undoubtedly  the  fact,  that  the  object  in  view 
cannot  be  effected  without  this  great  number  of  voli- 
tions. And  yet  we  perceive  that  this  person  goes  for- 
ward with  confidence,  and  that  he  makes  his  calcula- 
tions without  fear,  and  with  a  feeling  of  certainty  that 
he  will  be  able  to  execute  them.  He  evidently  pro- 
ceeds upon  the  supposition  (although  he  may  not  be 
fully  conscious  of  it  at  the  time,  and  may  never  have 
made  it  a  matter  of  distinct  reflection)  that  the  opera- 
tions of  the  Will  exist  in  reference  to  some  fixed  prin- 
ciples ;  and  particularly  in  connexion  with  motives  in 
their  various  kinds  and  degrees.  And  looking  at  his 
proposed  undertaking  with  care,  and  understanding 
well  the  claims,  both  of  interest  and  duty,  which  are 
involved  in  it,  he  determines  or  wills  in  reference  to 
the  general  plan  before  him,  whatever  it  may  be,  with- 
out even  doubting  that  all  the  future  acts  of  the  vol- 
untary power  will  be  accordant  with  its  requisite  de- 
tails ;  and  that,  in  due  season,  it  will  be  brought  to  a 
fulfilment  in  all  its  parts.  But  we  may  assert  witn 
confidence,  that  this  could  never  be  done  if  volitions 
were  entirely  contingent ;  in  other  words,  if  they  were 


PRESCIENCE    OK    FORESIGHT   OF    MEI^.  499 

without  laws.  For  if  this  last  were  the  case,  he  would 
be  just  as  likely  to  go  to  Providence  as  Boston,  to 
Albany  as  New-York,  or  to  any  other  place  what- 
ever, as  to  that  where  he  first  determined  to  go ;  and 
would  be  just  as  likely  to  do  the  direct  opposite  as 
that  particular  business  which  he  designed  to  accom- 
plish at  his  first  setting  out. — And  the  views,  applica- 
ble in  this  particular  case,  will  apply  to  the  multiplied 
'occurrences  and  duties  of  every  week  and  day.  And 
they  furnish  of  themselves,  and  independently  of  ev- 
ery other  argument  which  may  be  brought  up,  but 
little  short  of  a  demonstration  of  what  we  are  at- 
tempting to  establish. 

§  4G9.  Foresight  of  men  in  respect  to  the  conduct  of  others. 

In  the  second  place,  men  are  able  to  foretell,  with 
a  considerable  degree  of  certainty,  the  situation,  ac- 
tions, and  success  of  others  at  some  future  time.  This 
is  so  notorious  as  not  unfrequently  to  have  elicited 
the  remark,  that  there  is  a  certain  regular  order  in 
the  conduct  of  men,  in  some  degree  analogous  to  the 
regular  course  of  things,  which  we  never  fail  to  ob- 
serve in  the  physical  world.  Men  may  everywhere 
be  found  who  would  no  more  hesitate  to  predict  the 
precise  conduct  of  their  neighbours  in  certain  assign- 
able circumstances,  than  they  would  to  predict  that 
trees  of  a  certain  kind  would  grow  in  a  given  situa- 
tion. 

Some  instances  will  illustrate  what  we  mean. — A 
poor  man  goes  to  a  rich  man  in  the  same  neighbour- 
hood, who  is  a  confirmed  and  inexorable  miser,  for 
the  purpose  of  borrowing  a  sum  of  money,  but  with- 
out being  willing  to  give  the  customary  interest  of 
twenty  per  cent.,  and  unable  at  the  same  time  to  fur- 
nish adequate  security  for  the  principal.  Everybody 
knows  that  the  miser  will  refuse  his  money  at  once. 
They  expect  and  predict  it  with  hardl}^  less  confidence 
than  they  predict,  that  a  stone  thrown  into  the  air 
will  immediately  fall  to  the  earth's  surface.  "A  pris- 
oner," says  Mr.  Hume,  "  who  has  neither  money  nor 
interest,  discovers  the  impossibility  of  escape,  as  well  ■ 


500         LAWS    OF    THE    WILL    IMPLIED    IX    THE 

when  he  considers  the  obstinacy  of  his  guards  as  thft 
walls  and  bars  with  which  he  is  surrounded;  and  in 
all  his  attempts  for  his  freedom,  chooses  rather  to 
work  upon  the  stone  and  iron  of  the  one,  than  upon, 
the  inflexible  nature  of  the  other."  This  remark  of 
Mr.  Hume  is  an  important  one,  and,  without  question, 
is  essentially  correct.  Undoubtedly  it  is  sometimes 
the  case,  that  prisoners  endeavour  to  effect  their  es- 
cape by  working  upon  the  passions  and  will  of  their 
guards ;  but  in  a  vast  majority  of  cases  they  consider 
their  chance  of  escape  much  better  by  means  of  at- 
tempts made  upon  the  stone  and  iron  that  enclose 
them.  They  understand  so  well  the  connexion  be- 
tween motive  and  volition,  between  interest  aud  duty 
on  the  one  hand  and  the  resolves  of  the  will  on  the 
other,  that,  with  the  knowledge  they  possess  of  the 
characters  and  situation  of  those  who  are  appointed 
to  act  as  their  guards,  they  consider  their  escape  by 
means  of  any  collusion  with  them,  or  any  assistance 
from  that  source,  as  an  utter  impossibility. 

§  470.   Other  familiar  instances  of  this  foresight. 

But  we  will  now  proceed  to  give  some  instances 
which  are  less  remote  from  common  observation. 
The  reader  may  perhaps  recollect  some  remarks  of 
Dr.  Paley,  relative  to  our  constant  dependence  on  our 
fellow-men.  "  Every  hour  of  our  lives  we  trust  and 
depend  upon  others;  and  it  is  impossible  to  stir  a 
step,  or,  what  is  worse,  to  sit  still  a  moment,  without 
such  trust  and  dependence.  I  am  now  writing  at  my 
ease,  not  doubting  (or,  rather,  never  distrusting,  and, 
therefore,  never  thinking  about  it)  but  that  the  butcher 
will  send  in  the  joint  of  meat  which  I  ordered ;  that 
his  servant  will  bring  it;  that  my  cook  will  dress  it; 
that  my  footman  will  serve  it  up;  and  that  I  shall 
find  it  on  the  table  at  one  o'clock."* — And  this  is  a 
state  of  things  which  is  constantly  occurring,  not  only 
in  the  matter  of  the  daily  food  necessary  for  the  sup- 
port of  our  lives,  but  in  a  thousand  other  instances. 
The  merchant  depends  upon  his  clerks;  the  manu- 

♦  Moral  Philosophy,  book  iii.,  chap.  v. 


PRESCIENCE   OR   FORESIGHT   OF   MEN.  50] 

facturer  npoa  his  numerous  operatives  of  all  classes 
and  conditions;  the  farmer,  who  works  upon  a  large 
scale,  depends  upon  the  hands  of  others  as  much  as 
he  does  upon  the  labour  of  his  own  hands  ;  the  com- 
mander of  a  vessel  constantly  reckons  upon  the  effi- 
cient co-operation  of  his  sailors ;  the  leader  of  armies 
relies  upon  the  movements  of  vast  bodies  of  men 
made  with  the  utmost  precision  in  the  most  trying 
circumstances.  And  it  is  the  same  in  all  situations, 
and  among  all  classes  of  men,  as  any  one,  who  will  in 
the  least  trouble  himself  to  exercise  his  recollection, 
will  be  abundantly  satisfied.  But  if  all  these  persons 
operated  by  mere  accident,  and  without  regard  to  any 
fixed  principles ;  if  it  were  a  matter  of  entire  contin- 
gency whether  they  should  perform  their  engage- 
ments or  not,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  all  the  sources  of 
enjoyment  and  even  of  existence  would  be  destroyed, 
and  the  foundations  of  society  speedily  broken  up. 

§  471.  Argument  from  the  regularity  of  voluntary  contributions 

In  connexion  with,  the  topic  now  before  us,  viz., 
that  we  are  able  to  foretell,  with  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  certainty,  the  situation  and  actions  of  others 
at  some  future  time,  we  request  the  attention  of  the 
reader  to  a  class  of  facts  which  are  somewhat  peculiar. 
It  cannot  have  escaped  the  notice  of  any  one  as  in 
some  degree  a  characteristic  of  modern  times,  that 
there  are  a  multitude  of  benevolent  associations,  whose 
receipts  depend  wholly  upon  voluntary  contributions. 
But,  notwithstanding  the  fact  of  their  income  being 
wholly  voluntary,  which,  if  experience  had  not  shown 
to  the  contrary,  would  be  exceedingly  discouraging, 
they  proceed  in  their  affairs  with  nearly  or  quite  the 
same  confidence  as  if  they  had  a  fixed  capital  to 
operate  with.  .  They  send  out  missionaries,  establish 
schools,  translate  the  Scriptures,  explore  unknown 
and  barbarous  countries,  plant  colonies,  erect  churches, 
and  engage  in  other  important  and  expensive  under- 
takings, without  a  cent  of  money  except  what  comes 
from  voluntary  gifts.  They  make  their  calculations 
beforehand  as  to  what  they  can  accomplish  in  a  given 


502  LAWO    OF   THE    WILL  IMPLIED    IN    THE 

time ;  and  not  unfrequently  incur  heavy  expenses  in 
anticipation  of  their  receipts.  Their  true  capital  is  a 
knowledge  of  the  operations  of  the  human  mind  un- 
der certain  assignable  circumstances.  These  circum- 
stances they  are  in  a  good  degree  acquainted  with ; 
and  hence  are  enabled  to  anticipate  the  amount  of 
their  receipts  for  a  given  time  with  almost  as  much 
accuracy  as  the  merchant  or  farmer,  who  has  an  actual 
capital  already  in  his  possession  to  operate  with.  Does 
not  this  circumstance  go,  with  others,  to  show  that 
the  Will  has  its  laws  ? 

§  472.  Of  sagacity  in  the  estimate  of  individual  character. 

We  now  proceed  to  introduce  to  the  consideration 
of  the  reader  another  view  of  the  subject  of  this  chap- 
ter, which  is  exceedingly  interesting  in  itself,  besides 
furnishing  an  argument  deserving  of  some  attention. 
It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  men  who  exhibit  a  sort 
of  quickness  or  sagacity  in  the  estimate  of  individual 
character,  which  is  sometimes  described  by  the  phrase, 
a  knoivledge  of  the  world,  or  of  human  nature.  This 
knowledge  is  undoubtedly  possessed  by  all  persons 
to  some  extent ;  but  not  unfrequently  individuals  are 
found  who  possess  it  in  a  remarkably  high  degree. 
In  some  men  it  may  be  said  not  only  to  assume  the 
appearance,  but  even  to  approximate  the  nature  of  a 
pro2:)hetic  anticipation  or  foresight ;  and  when  this  is 
the  case,  it  is  an  acquisition,  as  no  one  can  be  igno- 
rant, of  great  power  and  value.  The  late  Mr.  Du- 
mont,  of  Geneva,  in  his  Eecollections  of  Mirabeau, 
has  noticed  this  ability  in  one  of  its  more  striking 
forms. — Speaking  of  the  political  life  of  that  cele- 
brated man,  especially  in  its  connexion  with  his  knowl- 
edge of  men  and  his  political  foresight,  he  goes  on  to 
say,  "It  was  by  the  same  instinctive  penetration  that 
Mirabeau  so  easily  detected  the  feelings  of  the  As- 
sembly, and  so  often  embarrassed  his  opponents  by 
revealing  their  secret  motives,  and  laying  open  that 
which  they  were  most  anxious  to  conceal.  There 
seemed  to  exist  no  political  enigma  which  he  could 
not  solve.     He  eam.e  at  once  to  the  most  intimate 


PRESCIENCE   OR   FORESIGHT   OF   MEN.  503 

secets,  and  his  sagacity  alone  was  of  more  use  to  him 
than  a  muhitude  of  spies  in  the  enemy's  camp.  I 
used  sometimes  to  attribute  the  severity  of  his  judg- 
ments to  hatred  or  jealousy,  but  it  has  been  justified 
by  succeeding  events,  and  there  was  not  a  man  of  any 
consequence  in  the  Assembly,  the  sum  of  whose  con- 
duct did  not  correspond  with  the  opinion  which  Mira- 
beau  had  formed  of  him. 

"Independently  of  this  natural  gift,  this  intellect 
of  penetration,  his  life  had  been  so  agitated,  he  had 
been  so  tossed  upon  the  sea  of  human  existence,  as  he 
used  to  say,  that  he  had  acquired  vast  experience  of 
the  world  and  of  men.  He  detected,  in  a  moment, 
every  shade  of  character;  and,  to  express  the  result 
of  his  observations,  he  had  invented  a  language  scarce- 
ly intelligible  to  any  but  himself;  had  terms  to  indi- 
cate fractions  of  talents,  qualities,  virtues,  or  vices — 
halves  and  quarters — and,  at  a  glance,  he  could  per- 
ceive every  real  or  apparent  contradiction.  No  form 
of  vanity,  disguised  ambition,  or  tortuous  proceedings 
could  escape  his  penetration ;  but  he  could  also  per- 
ceive good  qualities,  and  no  man  had  a  higher  esteem 
for  energetic  and  virtuous  characters."* 

It  cannot  be  necessary  to  add  anything  to  show 
how  this  instance,  and  others  like  it,  (for  the  political 
history  of  every  age  brings  to  light  some  men  of  this 
stamp,)  connects  itself  with  and  illustrates  our  subject. 

§  473.  Foresight  of  the  conduct  of  masses  of  men  and  nations. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  we  are  able,  not  only 
to  predict  with  a  considerable  degree  of  certainty  the 
conduct  of  individuals  in  any  given  circumstances, 
but  we  may  do  the  same  of  whole  classes  of  men,  and 
even  nations.  Hence  the  remark  which  Lord  Bacon 
has  somewhere  made,  and  which  is  strikingly  char- 
acterized by  its  poetical  as  well  as  its  philosophical 
spirit.  "The  shepherds  of  the  people,"  he  says, 
"should  understand  the  prognostics  of  state  tempests; 
hollow  blasts  of  wind  seemingly  at  a  distance,  and 
secret  swellings  of  the  sea,  often  precede  a  storm." 

*  Dumont's  Recollections  of  Mirabeau,  chap.  xiv. 


504    LAWS  OF  THE  WILL  IMPLIED  IN  THE 

But  we  may  carry  tliis  view  into  some  particulars 
which  are  deserving  of  notice.  The  results,  for  iu' 
stance,  of  a  popular  election,  if  certain  data  are  ascer- 
tained, are  often  considered  as  settled,  even  before 
the  day  of  voting  has  arrived ;  although  the  conclu- 
sions thus  formed  are  based  in  part  upon  opinions 
relative  to  whole  classes  of  men,  who  differ  from  each 
other  in  their  callings,  interests,  and  prejudices. 

Again,  the  speculations  in  the  public  or  national 
stocks  are  very  frequently  prompted  by  the  opinions, 
which  those  who  are  engaged  in  such  speculations 
are  able  to  form  of  the  course  which  states  and  na- 
tions will  take  in  some  future  time. 

One  of  the  most  striking  facts,  involving  the  fore- 
sight or  prescience  of  the  conduct  of  large  masses  of 
men,  is  the  financial  estimate  which  is  annually  made 
by  governments.  It  is  well  known  that  the  amount 
of  property  invested  in  commerce,  with  the  annual 
returns  of  revenue  to  the  government,  is  every  year 
estimated  iu  advance,  and  with  very  considerable  ac- 
curacy, by  the  treasury  departments  of  all  civilized 
nations. 

Eeasoning  from  what  has  taken  place  in  times  past, 
we  may  predict,  with  a  good  degree  of  accuracy,  what 
number  of  letters  will  be  written  and  circulated 
through  a  nation  at  any  future  time.  The  number 
of  letters  is  indicated  by  the  amount  of  postage ;  and 
this  is  a  matter  which  the  governments  of  nations 
have  thought  it  important  to  them  to  ascertain.  If 
a  person  will  take  the  pains  to  examine  the  total  re- 
ceipts of  the  Postoifice  Department  of  the  United 
States,  in  the  successive  years  from  1790  to  1830,  he 
will  notice,  with  but  few  exceptions,  and  those  easily 
explained,  a  gradual  and  very  regular  increase  in  the 
amount ;  the  increase  being  such  as  would  naturally 
be  expected  from  the  augmentation  of  the  wealth  and 
population  of  the  country. 

It  would  seem,  in  looking  at  the  statistical  tables 
for  this  purpose,  that  in  the  year  1815  there  was  an 
increase  decidedly  greater  than  would  be  naturally 
expected  in   ordinary  circumstances.     But  this  was 


PRESCIENCE   OR   FORESIGHT   OF   MEN.  ^05 

probably  owing  (and  equallj  satisfactory  reasons  will 
be  found  for  other  equally  marked  variations)  to  the 
recent  return  of  peace  with  Great  Britain,  which  at 
once  gave  a  new  and  expanded  impulse  to  the  busi- 
ness transactions  of  the  country. 

We  presume  it  will  be  found  also  on  inquiry,  that 
the  number  of  letters  not  taken  from  the  subordinate 
offices,  and  returned  from  time  to  time  to  the  General 
Postofl&ce,  or  dead  letters  so  called,  is  nearly  the 
same  from  year  to  year,  or  varying  so  as  to  corre- 
spond to  the  variation  in  the  number  of  letters  re- 
ceived. It  is  stated  by  Laplace,  that  the  number  of 
dead  letters  remaining  at  and  returned  from  other  of- 
fices to  the  Postoffice  at  Paris  is,  in  ordinary  times, 
nearly  the  same  from  one  year  to  another.  The 
same  thing  has  been  stated  of  the  Dead  Letter  Office, 
as  itr  is  called,  in  London. — All  these  things  conclu- 
sively evince  that  the  actions  of  men,  whether  consid- 
ered individually  or  in  masses,  are  not  left  to  chance 
or  mere  accident. 

Note. — For  a  more  detailed  and  satisfactory  examination  of  this 
part  of  our  subject,  including  not  only  a  specific  statement  of  a  num- 
ber of  volitional  laws,  but  also  an  explanation  of  the  relational  har- 
mony and  consistency  of  Law  and  Freedom,  we  are  compelled  by 
our  narrow  limits  to  refer  to  the  volume  on  the  Department  of  the 
Will,  of  which  these  statements  are  an  abridgment. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

ON  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  WILL, 

§  474.  Of  the  freedom  of  the  will,  and  of  the  relation  of  its  freedom 
to  its  subjection  to  law. 

We  proceed  now  to  another  view  of  this  important 
subject.  If  it  be  true  that  the  will,  in  its  action,  har- 
monizes with  law,  in  such  a  sense  at  least  that  its  ac- 
tion cannot  be  regarded  as  wholly  accidental,  it  is  also 
true  that  the  will  is  free. 

Law  and  Liberty  necessarily  go  together.  If  it 
could  be  shown  that  the  will  acts,  irrespective  of  any 
determinate  methods  and  principles  of  action ;  in  oth- 
TT  u 


506      ON  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  WILL. 

er  words,  if  laws  were  not  in  any  sense  predicable  ol 
the  will,  (such  for  instance  as  the  great  law  of  motives,) 
then  it  would  of  course  follow,  that  it  is  the  subject 
of  mere  contingency  and  accident,  which  entirely  and 
fully  comes  up  to  the  utmost  idea  of  fatality.  And 
it  would  be  found  to  be  a  fatalism  of  the  worst  kind, 
an  unintelligent  fatalism. — But  having  shown  that  the 
Will  has  its  laws,  we  secure  in  that  single  fact  the 
possibility  of  liberty,  which  we  could  not  have  with- 
out it.  .We  are,  accordingly,  in  a  situation  in  which 
the  liberty  of  the  Will,  that  important  and  noble  at- 
tribute of  a  morally  accountable  nature,  is  not  neces- 
sarily excluded,  which  would  certainly  be  the  case  if 
the  will  were  driven  about  hither  and  thither,  without 
any  possible  foresight  of  what  is  liable  to  take  place, 
and  without  any  regularity  of  action. 

§  475.   Circumstances  or  occasions  under  which  freedom  of  the  will 
exists. 

Although,  in  entering  into  the  subject  of  the  free- 
dom of  the  Will,  we  do  not  profess,  in  this  abridged 
view  of  it,  to  go  into  verbal  explanations  and  defini- 
tions, something  may  nevertheless  be  said  in  relation 
to  the  occasions  or  circumstances  under  which  it  ex- 
ists. If  there  is  perfect  harmony  in  other  parts  of  the 
mind,  there  will  be  perfect  freedom  in  the  Will ;  if 
every  appetite,  and  propensity,  and  passion  is  precise- 
ly what  it  should  be,  the  voluntary  power  cannot  pos- 
sibly experience  any  pressure  which  will  interrupt  or 
diminish  that  degree  of  liberty  which  is  essential  to, 
or  compatible  with  its  nature. 

This  topic  may  perhaps  be  susceptible  of  illustra» 
tion  by  a  reference  to  the  Supreme  Being.  If  free- 
dom can,  with  propriety  and  justice,  be  predicated  of 
any  being  whatever,  it  is  certainly  predicable  of  the 
Supreme  Being ;  and  predicable  not  only  in  general 
terms,  but  of  the  Will  in  2')articular.  We  hazard  noth- 
ing in  saying,  that  liberty  of  the  Will  is  possessed  by 
Him  in  the  highest  possible  degree.  And  we  cannot 
conceive  how  it  should  be  otherwise,  when  we  con- 
aider  that  the  elements,  both  moral  and  intellectual, 


ON  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  WILL.      507 

Dy  which  it  is  surrounded,  are  in  harmony  with  each 
other. — And  if  we  turn  our  attention  to  anv  other 
high  and  holy  beings,  such  as  are  nearest  in  glory  to 
the  Supreme  Author  of  all  things,  it  is  the  same. 
All  the  various  elements,  which  go  to  constitute  them 
intelligent  and  moral  beings,  are  restricted  to  ^.heir 
proper  place,  and  operate  in  their  due  proportion. 
Their  perceptions,  so  far  as  they  go,  are  in  perfect  ac- 
cordance with  the  truth  of  things.  Their  emotions 
are  such  as  God,  who  takes  supreme  delight  in  per- 
fect rectitude,  can  entirely  approve.  Every  desire 
which  they  exercise  is  in  its  right  place ;  their  love 
to  God  is  just  such  as  it  should  be ;  their  love  to  oth- 
er holy  beings  corresponds  precisely  to  the  nature  of 
the  object  towards  which  it  is  directed  ;  their  aversion 
to  sin  and  sinful  beings  is  just  such,  and  fully  unci  en- 
tirely such,  as  is  appropriate  and  right;  and  it  is  pre 
cisely  the  same  in  respect  to  every  other  emotion  and 
desire.  And  the  consequence  is,  there  is  no  disturb- 
ing force  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Will ;  there  is 
no  possible  motive  to  sway  it  from  the  line  of  per- 
fect rectitude;  and  hence  it  is  true,  that  their  Will, 
although  it  always  operates  in  the  direction  of  the 
highest  rectitude  and  good,  is  always  at  liberty ;  and 
this  liberty  exists,  too,  in  the  highest  possible  degree. 
And  hence  we  assert,  in  respect  to  all  minds,  whether 
they  are  higher  or  lower  in  the  scale  of  being,  that 
perfect  harmony  is  the  appropriate  element  of  perfect 
freedom  ;  and  that  every  diminution  of  harmony  wnll 
be  attended  with  a  corresponding  diminution  of  lib- 
erty. And  this  is  as  true  of  the  separate  parts  or 
powers  of  the  mind  as  of  the  whole ;  and  is  as  true 
of  the  Will  as  of  any  other  part. 

§  476.  Evidence  of  the  freedom  of  the  will  from  consciousness. 

Having  made  the  foregoing  remarks  in  explana- 
tion of  the  nature  of  the  freedom  of  the  Will,  and  of 
the  occasions  on  which  it  exists,  we  are  now  prepared 
to  proceed  to  a  consideration  of  the  proofs  in  support 
of  the  position  that  there  is  such  a  freedom.  And  we 
accordingly  remark,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  freedom 


508      ON"  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  WILL. 

of  the  will  is  sustained,  in  tbe  first  place,  by  con- 
SCIOUSNESS. — When  we  assert  that  men  have  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  Freedom  of  the  will  by  Consciousnees,  we 
mean  merely  to  declare,  that  such  knowledge  is  the 
result  of  an  inward  conviction,  an  internal  experience. 
In  other  words,  every  man  knows  himself,  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  volition,  to  be  free.  It  is  a  knowledge  which 
we  possess,  not  by  deduction,  but  by  a  species  of  in- 
tuitive conviction ;  not  by  inference,  but  by  an  orig- 
inal perception. 

We  will  only  add,  that  the  argument  from  Con- 
sciousness is  as  decisive,  as  it  is  plain  and  simple. 
Some  writers,  indeed,  have  been  disposed  to  rely  upon 
this  argument  alone.  They  consider  it  (and  perhaps 
it  may  be  admitted  with  entire  justice  and  correct- 
ness) as  conclusive  against  any  considerations  which 
may  be  adduced  adverse  to  it.  "  Our  own  free  will," 
says  Mr.  Stewart,  "  we  know  by  consciousness ;  and 
we  can  have  no  evidence  of  any  truth  so  irresistible 
as  this." 

§  477.  Objection  to  the  argument  from  consciousness. 

It  ought  to  be  noticed,  however,  that  from  time  to 
time,  a  few  individuals  have  been  found  who  have 
asserted  the  opposite,  viz.,  a  consciousness  of  internal 
compulsion  or  slavery.  Surprising  as  such  a  declara- 
tion is,  we  are  bound  in  candour  to  receive  it  as  truly 
indicating  the  internal  experience  of  those  who  make 
it,  although  it  may  be  in  opposition  to  the  testimony 
of  thousands  and  even  hundreds  of  thousands  to  one. 
But  these  exceptions  do  not  at  all  overthrow  our  ar- 
gument. If  there  truly  be  such  exceptions,  they  can 
undoubtedly  be  explained  in  entire  consistency  with 
the  general  truth,  that  the  Freedom  of  the  will  is  as- 
certained and  proved  by  the  consciousness  of  man^ 
kind.  Is  it  not  true,  is  it  not  accordant  with  common 
«xperience  and  with  the  Scriptures  even,  that  any  man 
and  every  man  may  enslave  himself?  And,  when 
that  is  the  case,  what  could  we  expect  but  that  con- 
sciousness, the  true  index  of  what  takes  place  within, 
should  bear  its  testimony  to  a  state   of  thraldom? 


ON  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  WILL.      509 

If,  then,  these  persons  are  not  conscious  of  Freedom 
of  the  will,  may  we  not  safely  say,  it  is  not  the  work 
of  their  Creator,  but  their  own  ? 

Certain  it  is,  if  we  permit  any  one  of  the  appetites, 
propensities,  or  passions  continually  to  extend  and 
strengthen  itself  by  being  continually  repeated,  it  will 
eventually  gain  the  ascendency  over  and  subdue  all 
the  rest  of  the  mind.  If,  for  instance,  a  man  indulges, 
year  after  year,  the  consuming  '  ropensity  of  ambi- 
tion, it  ultimately  so  disorders"  the  proper  action 
of  the  mental  powers,  and  acquires  such  immense 
strength,  that  he  feels  himself  driven  by  a  sort  of 
compulsion ;  he  undoubtedly  recognises  in  himself, 
as  he  asserts,  to  be  the  case,  the  impulse  of  a  species 
of  destiny,  which,  however,  is  of  his  own  creation. 
By  his  own  criminal  improvidence,  and  not  by  any 
inward  and  irresistible  fatality,  he  has  lost  control  of 
the  helm,  and  is  driver  forward  amid  billows  and 
tempests  to  his  destruction. 

Such  cases  undoubtedly  exist,  but  they  cannot  with 
propriety  be  regarded  in  any  other  light  than  that  of 
exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  and  which  are  suscep- 
tible of  an  explanation  in  consistency  with  the  gen- 
eral experience  of  mankind.  That  experience  (the 
inward  testimony  or  consciousness  which  the  great 
mass  of  mankind  has)  most  decidedly  testifies  to  the 
liberty  of  the  will. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FREEDOM   OF   THE   WILL   IMPLIED   IN   MAN'S   MORAL 
NATURE. 

§  478.  Of  the  elem.,iits  of  man's  moral  nature. 
We  may  further  argue  the  matter  of  the  freedom 
of  the  will  from  man's  moral  nature.  That  man  has 
a  moral  nature  we  cannot  suppose  to  be  a  matter  of 
doubt.  Without  such  a  nature  he  could  not  be  the 
subject  of  a  moral  government;  and  although  he 
might  possess  all  knowledge,  he  would  necessarily  be 
IT  u  2 


510  FREEDOM   OF   THE    WILL   IMPLIED 

without  virtue  and  vice;  and  neither  praise  nor  blama 
neither  rewards  nor  punishment,  could  ever  attach  to 
his  conduct. 

There  is  nothing  inconceivable  or  inconsistent  in 
the  supposition  of  a  being  so  constituted  as  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  intellect,  pi-opensities,  passions,  and  will,  and 
yet  to  be  incapable,  by  his  very  constitution,  of  fram- 
ing those  notions  and  of  exercising  those  feelings 
which  are  implied  in  a  moral  nature.  But  such  is 
not  the  constitution  of  man.  While  he  is  endowed 
with  intellect,  and  appetites,  and  propensities,  and 
passions,  and  will,  God  has  seen  fit  to  elevate  and  en- 
noble him,  by  constituting  him  a  moral  and  religious- 
being.  The  elements  of  his  moral  nature  (in  accord- 
ance with  that  striking  wisdom  ever  manifested  in 
God's  works,  which  accomplishes  great  results  by  sim- 
ple means)  are  few  in  number,  and  are  to  be  found 
chiefly  in  his  ability  to  frame  the  abstract  notions  of 
right  and  wrong,  in  the  feelings  of  moral  a])proval 
and  disapproval,  in  those  states  of  the  mind  which 
are  known  as  feelings  of  remorse,  and  in  feelings  of 
moral  obligation. — All  these  states  of  mind,  which, 
taken  together,  constitute  man  a  moral  being,  and 
without  which  he  could  not  sustain  or  possess  that 
character,  are  based  upon  and  imply  the  fact,  as  will 
more  fully  appear  in  the  separate  examination  of 
them,  of  tiie  freedom  of  the  will. 

§  479.  Evidence  of  freedom  of  the  will  from  feelings  of  approval  and 
disapproval. 

In  stating  the  argument  which  may  be  deduced  on 
this  subject  from  our  moral  nature,  we  proceed  to  re- 
mark, in  the  first  place,  that  the  freedom  of  the  will  is 
implied  in,  and  is  shown  by,  the  moral  feelings  of  ap- 
proval and  disapproval.  We  are  so  constituted,  that, 
whenever  we  behold  a  person  performing  a  virtuous 
action,  demeaning  himself  with  entire  kindness,  good 
faith,  and  justice,  we  at  once  feel  a  sentiment  of  ap- 
proval. On  the  other  hand,  if  we  see  a  person  pur- 
suing a  different  course,  one  which  is  obviously  char- 
acterized by  falsehood,  ingratitude,  and  injustice,  we 


IN   MAN'S    MORAL   NATURE.  611 

at  once  feel  an  emotion  of  disapproval.  But  if  it 
should  be  suddenly  disclosed  to  us  that  the  agent, 
whom  we  thus,  according  to  the  circumstances  of  the 
case,  either  approve  or  condemn,  was  not  in  the  pos- 
session of  freedom  of  will,  it  is  undeniable,  that  all 
such  approval  or  disapproval  would  at  once  cease. 
We  should  no  more  think  of  approving  an  action, 
however  beneficial  it  might  be,  which  was  known  to 
be  performed  without  freedom  of  will,  than  of  pro- 
nouncing a  man  worthy  of  moral  approbation  for  a 
purely  natural  gift,  such  as  symmetry  of  form,  a  mu- 
sical voice,  or  striking  outlines  of  the  countenance. 
More  properly,  we  should  think  nothing  about  it. 
To  approve  under  such  circumstances  would,  by  the 
very  constitution  of  our  nature,  be  an  impossibility. 
The  existence  of  liberty,  therefore,  is,  in  this  respect, 
and  so  far  as  these  feelings  are  concerned,  fundament- 
al to  our  moral  nature. 

§  480.  Proof  of  freedom  from  feelings  of  remorse. 

There  is  another  class  of  mental  states,  constituting 
a  part  of  man's  moral  nature,  to  which  similar  re- 
marks will  apply ;  we  refer  to  feelings  of  remorse. 
These  feelings  are  entirely  distinct  from  those  of  ap- 
proval and  disapproval.  We  are  capable  of  approv- 
ing or  disapproving  when  our  attention  is  directed 
solely  to  the  conduct  of  others ;  but  we  never  feel  re- 
morse for  what  others  do,  and  it  is  impossible  that  we 
should.  Feelings  of  remorse  have  relation  to  our- 
selves alone.  'We  experience  them  when  our  own 
conduct,  and  not  that  of  others,  is  the  subject  of  moral 
disapproval.  They  are  painful  feelings,  but  the  suf> 
fering  is  of  a  peculiar  kind,  altogether  different  from 
mere  sadness  or  grief;  and  hence  they  may  be  re- 
garded as  having  a  character  of  their  own,  and  as  sep- 
arate in  their  nature  from  all  other  states  of  the  mind. 
The  existence  of  these  states  of  mind  implies,  on  the 
part  of  the  person  who  is  the  subject  of  them,  a  con- 
viction of  the  freedom  of  the  will. 

It  can  hardly  be  thought  necessary  to  adduce  facts 
and  arguments  in  support  of  what  has  been  said.     If 


512  FKEEDOM    OF   THE    WILL    IMPLIED 

a  person  feels  an  internal  condemnation  or  remorse 
for  what  he  has  done,  it  certainly  must  be  on  the 
ground  that  he  wf'S  at  liberty  to  will  and  to  do  other- 
wise. It  cannot  be  doubted  that  this  position  is  full^; 
and  universally  admitted. — There  may  be  fears  and 
sorrows,  undoubtedly ;  there  may  be  regrets  and  suf- 
ferings, in  cases  which  are  not  dependent  on  any  de- 
terminations of  our  own ;  but  there  cannot  possibly 
be  REMORSE,  which  implies  a  sense  of  guilt  as  well  as 
the  experionce  of  sorrow,  without  a  conviction,  deep 
as  the  basis  of  the  mind  itself,  that,  in  doing  the  crim- 
inal action,  we  willed  and  acted  freely,  and  not  by 
compulsion.  If,  therefore,  feelings  of  remor&e  exist, 
as  they  not  unfrequently  do,  they  furnish  a  strong 
proof  in  support  of  the  liberty  of  the  will. 

§  48L  Without  the  possession  of  liberty  of  will  man  could  never 
have  framed  the  abstract  notions  of  right  and  wrong. 

Among  other  things  having  a  relation  to  man's 
situation  and  character  as  a  moral  being,  it  is  to  be 
noticed  that  he  is  so  constituted  as  to  be  able  to  form 
the  abstract  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  or  of  virtue 
and  vice,  which  are  only  other  and  synonymous  ex- 
pressions for  right  and  wrong.  These  conceptions 
(which  are  thoughts,  and  not  emotions ;  the  creations 
of  the  Intellect,  and  not  the  exercises  of  the  Sensibil- 
ities or  heart)  are  truly  great  and  ennobling;  and  it 
may  perhaps  be  said  of  them,  more  than  of  any  other 
part  of  our  moral  nature,  that  they  are  the  basis  of 
moral  reasoning,  and  the  foundation  of  moral  antici- 
pation and  hope.  They  disclose  to  the  mind,  like 
light  coming  from  heaven  and  shining  vividly  into 
its  depths,  the  great  fact  that  there  is  a  real,  perma- 
nent, and  immutable  distinction  between  good  and 
evil.  Strike  out  and  annihilate  these  primary  con- 
ceptions, and  you  at  the  same  moment  obscure  and 
destroy  the  glory  of  man's  mental  nature,  and  blot 
out,  at  least  as  far  as  all  human  perception  is  concern- 
ed, the  brightest  feature  in  the  character  of  all  other 
mental  existences. 

But  these  leading  ideas,  so  fundamental  to  every- 


IN   MAN'S   MOEAL   NATURE.  513 

thing  of  a  moral  and  religious  nature,  could  never 
have  been  formed  without  a  conviction  of  tlie  liberty 
of  the  will.  The  occasions  undoubtedly,  on  which 
they  are  suggested  and  exist  in  the  mind,  are  in- 
stances of  voluntary  conduct,  either  our  own  or  that 
of  others,  where  we  either  approve  or  disapprove. 
Without  such  occasions  offered  to  our  notice,  and 
without  such  attendant  emotions  of  moral  approval 
or  disapproval,  it  may  be  asserted  without  any  hesi- 
tation, that  men  would  never  have  formed  any  con- 
ceptions in  the  abstract  of  right  and  wrong,  of  recti- 
tude and  the  opposite ;  and,  consequently,  could  nev- 
er have  beheld,  as  they  now  clearly  do,  as  if  inscribed 
by  the  radiant  finger  of  God,  a  great  line  of  demarca- 
tion, remaining  always  and  immutably  the  same,  be- 
tween good  and  evil,  between  holiness  and  sin.  But, 
as  has  already  been  stated,  it  is  always  implied  in  the 
feelings  of  approval  and  disapproval,  that  the  person, 
whose  conduct  is  either  approved  or  disapproved, 
possessed  liberty  of  the  will.  Without  a  firm  convic- 
tion that  such  was  the  case,  the  emotions  could  never 
have  existed ;  and,  consequently,  there  could  never 
have  occurred,  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind,  that 
state  of  things  which  is  the  basis  of  the  origin  of  the 
abstract  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  of  rectitude  and 
want  of  rectitude,  of  virtue  and  vice,  which  are  only 
different  expressions  for  the  same  thing.  We  have, 
therefore,  in  this  view  of  the  subject,  a  new  proof 
that  the  liberty  of  the  will  is  positively  and  neces- 
sarily involved  in  the  fact  of  our  possessing  a  moral 
nature. 

§  482.  Proof  from  feelings  of  moral  obligation. 

There  is  a  distinct  class  of  mental  states,  entitled, 
in  every  point  of  view,  to  an  important  place  in  man's 
moral  constitution,  which  may  be  termed  Obligatory 
feelings,  or  feelings  of  moral  obligation.  Of  these 
states  of  mind  we  do  not  profess  to  give  a  definition. 
As  they  are  elementary  and  simple,  they  are  neces- 
sarily undefinable.  But  we  cannot  doubt  that  every 
one  must  have  more  or  kss  frequently  experienced 


514  FREEDOM   OF   THE   WILL    IMPLIED 

theni,  and  that  every  one  knows  wliat  their  nature  is. 
And  this  class  of  feelings  also  furnishes  an  argument 
on  the  subject  before  us. — We  deem  the  assertion 
within  the  bounds  of  truth  and  of  the  common  opin- 
ion of  mankind,  when  we  say  that  no  man  ever  docs 
or  ever  can  experience  in  himself  the  feeling  of  moral 
obligation  to  do  a  thing,  so  long  as  he  feels  himself 
to  be  actually  destitute  of  liberty  to  do  it.  And  thia 
is  equally  true,  whether  the  destitution  of  liberty  re- 
lates to  the  outward  and  bodily  action  or  to  the  ac- 
tion of  the  will.  Does  a  man  feel  himself  morally 
accountable  for  the  performance  of  an  action  to  which 
he  is  driven  by  some  bodily  compulsion?  Or  does 
he  feel  himself  accountable  for  a  failure  to  perform  an 
action,  from  the  i->erformance  of  which  he  is  kept  by 
actual  bodily  resti'aint?  And  if  the  mind  is  con- 
strained and  driven  by  a  compression  and  violence, 
corresponding,  as  far  as  the  different  nature  of  the 
two  things  will  permit,  to  such  compulsion  of  the 
body,  can  there  be  any  more  conviction  of  accounta- 
bility, or  of  any  form  of  moral  obligation  in  the  one 
case  than  in  the  other  ?  But  if  the  existence  of  feel- 
ings of  obligation  be  undeniable,  and  if  the  existence 
of  such  feelings  be  incompatible  with  the  absence  of 
freedom,  and  if  both  these  truths  are  based  on  the 
consciousness  and  confirmed  by  the  universal  ac- 
knowledgments of  mankind,  then  it  follows,  of  course, 
that  men  do  in  fact  feel  and  recognise,  and  that  they 
fully  and  assuredly  know  their  freedom. 

§  483.  Evidence  from  men's  views  of  crimes  and  punishments. 

Again,  the  freedom  of  the  will  is  clearly  implied  in 
the  views  which  we  find  to  be  generally  adopted  by 
men  in  respect  to  crimes  and  punishments.  This 
view  of  our  subject  is  closely  connected  with  that 
which  has  just  been  given  ;  and  essentially  the  same 
illustrations  as  were  introduced  in  the  last  section 
will  apply  here. 

If  a  man  is  laid  under  bodily  constraint,  and,  in 
that  situation,  is  the  agent  or  rather  instrument  in  the 
performance  of  an  action  involving  great  loss  and  suf- 


IN  man's  moral  nature.  515 

feriug  to  others,  such  action  is  never  considered  a 
crime  and  deserving  of  punishment,  in  whatever 
hght  it  might  be  regarded  under  other  circumstances. 
This  is  undeniable.  And  we  always  take  the  same 
view  when  the  mind  is  actually  laid  under  constraint 
as  when  the  body  is ;  with  this  diiference  merely, 
that  constraint  of  the  body  is  a  matter  easily  ascer- 
tainable, while  that  of  the  mind  can  be  learned  only 
with  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  probability.  The 
power  of  the  will  is  a  gift  or  trust,  as  much  so  as  the 
power  of  perception,  and  is  a  definite  thing ;  in  some 
persons  it  is  greater,  in  others  less ;  but  in  all  cases  it 
has  its  limits.  Whenever,  therefore,  there  is  an  utter 
disproportion  between  the  strength  of  the  motive  and 
the  power  of  the  will,  (so  much  so,  perhaps,  as  to  ren- 
der it  essentially  the  same  as  if  the  will  were  wholly 
destitute  of  power,)  the  will  is  universally  understood 
to  be,  at  such  times,  under  a  greater  or  less  degree 
of  constraint.  And  if,  under  such  circumstances,  a 
crime  be  charged  upon  a  person,  we  graduate  the  de- 
gree of  it,  (looking  upon  it  as  higher  in  some  cases 
and  lower  in  others,)  in  precise  conformity  with  the 
degree  of  constraint,  so  far  as  we  can  judge  what  it  is, 
"  There  are  cases,"  says  Dr.  Reid,  "in  which  a  man's 
voluntary  actions  are  thought  to  be  very  little,  if  at 
all,  in  his  power,  on  account  of  the  violence  of  the 
motive  that  impels  him.  The  magnanimity  of  a  hero 
or  a  martyr  is  not  expected  in  every  man  and  on  all 
occasions. — If  a  man,  trusted  by  the  government  with 
a  secret  which  it  is  high  treason  to  disclose,  be  pre- 
vailed upon  by  a  bribe,  we  have  no  mercy  for  him, 
and  hardly  allow  the  greatest  bribe  to  be  any  allevia- 
tion of  his  crime.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  se- 
cret be  extorted  by  the  rack  or  the  dread  of  present 
death,  we  pity  him  more  than  we  blame  him,  and 
would  think  it  severe  and  unequitable  to  condemn 
him  as  a  traitor." — And  he  afterward  gives  the  rea- 
son of  these  different  judgments,  viz.,  that  while  the 
mere  love  of  money  leaves  to  a  man  the  entire  pow- 
er over  himself,  the  torment  of  the  rack  or  the  dread 
of  present  death  are  so  violent  motives,  that  men  who 


516      FKEEDOM  OF  THE  WILL  IMPLIED 

have  not  uncomn^on-  strength  of  mind  are  not  ma» 
ters  of  themselves  in  such  a  situation,  and,  therefore, 
what  they  do  is  not  imputed  to  them  as  a  crime  at 
all,  or  is  thought  less  criminal  than  it  would  other- 
wise be. 

§  484.  Prevalent  opinions  of  mankind  on  this  subject. 

The  argument  under  this  general  head,  so  far  as  it 
has  now  been  gone  into,  has  been  stated  in  particu- 
lars ;  and  it  is  probably  more  satisfactory,  when  stated 
in  this  way,  than  in  any  other.  But  something  may 
be  said  on  the  subject  of  the  freedom  of  the  will,  as 
connected  with  our  moral  nature,  when  it  is  consid- 
ered, as  it  were,  in  the  mass.  The  body  of  mankind 
undoubtedly  look  upon  this  subject,  in  its  great  out- 
lines and  as  a  whole,  without  attempting  to  penetrate 
and  seize  its  elements.  And,  "without  unduly  yield- 
ing to  popular  prejudices  or  abating  from  the  dignity 
of  philosophy,  we  may  safely  assert,  that  this  is  an  in- 
quiry on  which  an  appeal  may  with  propriety  be 
made  to  the  common  experience,  and  the  common 
convictions  and  expressions  of  the  great  body  of  men. 
And  we  no  sooner  make  the  appeal  than  we  find  that 
the  testimony  from  that  source  is  unanimous  and  un- 
equivocal. 

There  are  some  truths  which  are  so  deeply  based 
in  the  human  constitution,  that  all  men  of  all  classes 
j'eceive  them  and  act  upon  them.  They  are  planted 
deeply  and  immutably  in  the  soul,  and  no  reasoning, 
however  plausible,  can  shake  them.  And,  if  we  are 
not  mistaken,  the  doctrine  of  the  freedom  of  the  will, 
as  a  condition  of  even  the  possibility  of  a  .moral  na- 
ture, is  one  of  these  first  truths.  It  seems  to  be  re- 
garded by  all  persons,  without  any  exception,  as  a 
dictate  of  common  sense  and  as  a  first  principle  of 
our  nature,  that  men  are  morally  accountable,  and 
are  the  subjects  of  a  moral  responsibility  in  any  re- 
spect whatever,  only  so  far  as  they  possess  freedom, 
both  of  the  outward  action  and  of  the  will.  They 
hold  to  this  position  as  an  elementary  truth,  and 
would  no  sooner  think  of  letting  it  go,  than  of  aban- 


m  man's  moral  nature.      517 

doning  the  conviction  of  tlieir  personal  existence  and 
identity.  They  do  not  profess  to  go  into  particulars, 
but  they  assert  it  in  the  mass,  that  man  is  a  moral 
being  only  so  far  as  he  is  free.  And  such  a  unani- 
mous and  decided  testimony,  bearing,  as  it  obviously 
does,  the  seal  and  superscription  of  nature  herself,  is 
entitled  to  serious  consideration. 

In  view  of  the  various  suggestions  of  this  chapter, 
we  are  abundantly  authorized  in  the  assertion,  that 
the  liberty  of  the  will  is  implied,  and  fully  and  clear- 
ly implied,  in  the  fact  of  man's  possessing  a  moral 
nature ;  and  that,  if  he  possesses  such  a  nature,  he 
possesses  freedom. 

§  485.  Both  views  are  to  be  fully  received. 

In  respect,  then,  to  the  two  distinct  doctrines  of  the 
will's  freedom  and  its  subjection  to  law,  there  remains 
nothing  to  be  done  but  the  cheerful,  ready,  and  com- 
plete reception  of  both.  The  doctrine,  that  the  will 
has  its  laws,  is  very  important,  considered  in  connex- 
ion with  the  relation  which  men  sustain  to  the  Su- 
preme Being.  This  view  places  the  will  in  subordi- 
nation to  that  higher  and  more  glorious  Intelligence, 
from  whom  the  laws,  to  which  it  is  amenable,  pro- 
ceed. By  adopting  this  doctrine,  we  are  enabled  to 
understand  how  his  full  and  perfect  superintendence 
can  be  maintained.  He  has  himself  assured  us  that 
he  is  intimately  acquainted  with  the  outward  actions 
of  men  ;  that  he  knoweth  their  down-sitting  and  up- 
rising; and  it  is  a  pleasing  and  consoling  thought, 
that  his  care  and  exact  scrutiny  may  be  extended 
even  to  the  mind  itself.  Who  will  not  rejoice  to  be, 
in  soul  as  well  as  in  body,  in  the  hands  of  Grod? 
Who  will  feel  that  there  could  be  any  better  provis- 
ion for  his  security  than  is  thus  furnished  by  the  con- 
stancy and  nearness  of  the  Divine  presence  ?  Who 
will  attach  any  value  even  to  independence  itself, 
when  purchased  at  the  measureless  expense  of  an  ex- 
emption  from  the  superintendence  of  the  Deity  ? 
Xx 


518  FREEDOM    OP   THE   WILL,  ETC. 

§  480.   Tlie  doLtiiue  of  the  will's  freedom  equally  important  with 
that  of  its  subjection  to  law. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  doctrine  that  the  will  is  free, 
in  any  correct  and  intelligible  sense  of  that  term,  is 
of  equal  practical  importance,  since  it  is  obviously  es- 
sential to  man's  moral  character  and  accountableness. 
It  is  a  great  truth,  which  demands  to  be  received  with 
entire  and  unwavering  conhdence,  that  God  has  made 
man  in  his  own  image ;  and  that,  in  doing  this,  he 
has  seen  fit  to  constitute  him  with  the  attributes  of 
freedom  and  power,  as  well  as  with  the  other  attri- 
butes which  are  requisite  to  a  rational  and  morally 
accountable  nature.  In  the  sphere  w4iich  is  given 
him,  (whether  more  or  less  limited  in  extent,)  he  has 
not  only  the  ability,  but  is  under  the  requisition  of 
acting  for  himself  No  plea  of  inability  can  ever  be 
admitted  as  an  excuse  for  negligence,  still  less  for  ut- 
ter inaction.  There  are  claims,  therefore,  binding 
upon  every  man,  which  he  cannot  resist.  So  that  the 
truest  and  highest  philosophy  is  to  be  found  in  that 
passage  of  Scripture,  "  Work  out  your  own  salvation 
with  fear  and  trembling,  for  it  is  God  which  worketh 
in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do,  of  his  own  good  pleas- 
ure." It  expresses  the  great  truth,  and,  we  may  add, 
the  great  mystery^  of  the  harmonious  combination  of 
power  and  dependence.  And  it  is  the  same  in  other 
things  as  in  religion,  that,  if  we  will  act  for  ourselves 
under  the  impulse  of  right  feelings,  our  Maker  will 
take  compassion  upon  us,  and  act  in  our  behalf;  that, 
if  we  will  faithfully  do  our  duty,  God  will  be  as  faith- 
ful to  help  us.  Not  an  hour  is  spent  in  effort  of  any 
kind,  in  conformity  with  the  directions  of  an  enlight- 
ened conscience,  and,  to  use  the  expressions  which 
Milton's  genius  has  made  so  familiar, 

"As  erer  in  our  fjreat  Taskmaster's  eye," 

which  is  not  attended  with  a  divine  blessing.  The 
iloctrine  of  a  combination  of  freedom  on  the  part  of 
men,  with  complete  superintendence  on  the  part  of 
God,  brings  God  and  men  into  harmony  with  each 
other ;  it  fully  makes  men  co-workers  with  God,  and 


ON   THE   POWER   OF   THE   WILL.  519 

yet  under  the  twofold  condition,  without  which  God 
cun  neither  be  a  sovereign  nor  man  a  moral  ageni, 
of  responsibility  and  dependence. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ON  THE  POWER  OF  THE  WILL. 
§  487.  Proof  of  power  in  the  will  from  the  analogy  of  the  mind. 
The  Will  acts  in  harmony  with  law.  But  it  is 
also  true,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  preceding  chapter, 
that  the  Will  is  free.  And  we  proceed  further  to 
say,  that  the  Will  possesses,  not  only  freedom,  but 
POWER.  Power  is  not  only  predicable  of  the  mind 
in  a  general  way,  but  it  is  predicable  of  its  parts,  and 
particularly  and  emphatically  so  of  our  volitional  na- 
ture. The  analogy  running  through  our  mental  con- 
stitution furnishes  some  grounds  and  authority  for 
this  remark.  Men  universally  speak  (and  they  un- 
doubtedly believe  they  have  good  reason  so  to  do)  of 
the  power  of  sensation,  of  the  power  of  perception, 
of  the  power  of  memory,  of  imagination,  of  reasoning. 
The  structure  of  all  languages  (for  they  appear  to  be 
all  alike  in  this  respect)  proves  wdiat  they  think ;  and 
we  may  add,  proves  what  they  hnoiv  on  this  subject. 
It  is  natural  for  the  man  who  perceives  to  say  that  he 
has  the  power  of  perception ;  the  man  who  remem- 
bers or  reasons,  asserts  without  hesitation,  that  he  has 
the  power  of  remembering  or  reasoning;  and  it  is 
impossible  to  convince  these  men,  either  that  these 
expressions  are  improperly  applied,  or  that  they  are 
nugatory  and  convey  no  distinct  meaning. — But  if 
there  is  truly  a  foundation  for  such  expressions,  and 
if  there  is  a  propriety  and  truth  in  the  use  of  them, 
is  there  not  equal  propriety  in  speaking  of  the  power 
of  the  WILL?  If  every  other  mental  action  clearly 
and  convincingly  indicates  to  us  the  existence  of  an 
innate  energy  corresponding  to  such  action,  it  cannot 
be  supposed  that  the  act  erf  willing  alone,  which  is  a 


520  ON   THE    POWER   OF   THE    WILL. 

pre-eminent  and  leading  exercise  of  the  mind,  exists 
independently  of  any  actual  basis  of  voluntary  ener- 
gy. The  analogy,  therefore,  of  the  mental  constitu- 
tion, (for  we  are  undoubtedly  at  liberty  to  reason 
from  analogy  in  this  case,  as  well  as  others,)  distinct- 
ly leads  to  the  result  that  power  is  appropriate  to, 
and  is  an  attribute  of,  the  Will. 

§  488.  Proof  of  power  in  the  will  from  internal  experience. 

That  power  is  predicable  of  the  will,  as  well  as  of 
any  other  faculty  of  the  mind,  or  of  the  mind  as  a 
whole,  is  evinced  not  only  by  the  analogy  running- 
through  the  mental  structure,  but  by  other  considera- 
tions. Among  other  views  to  be  taken  of  the  sub 
ject  now  before  us,  may  we  not,  in  this  inquiry  as 
well  as  in  others,  make  an  appeal  to  our  own  internal 
experience?  In  other  words,  have  we  not,  beyond 
all  doubt,  a  testimony  within  us,  a  direct  and  decisive 
internal  evidence  of  power  in  the  acts  of  the  Will  ? 
Do  we  not  feel  and  know  it  to  be  so? — Let  us  take  a 
familiar  instance  as  a  test  of  these  inquiries.  When 
a  person  wills  to  go  to  a  certain  place,  or  wills  to  do 
a  certain  thing,  does  the  volition  appear  to  have  been 
wrought  within  himself  by  an  extraneous  cause? 
Does  it  appear  to  have  been  created  and  placed  there 
without  any  personal  agency  and  effort?  Or  does  it 
rather  distinctly  and  satisfactorily  indicate  to  him  an 
energy  of  his  own  ?  Few  persons,  it  is  believed,  will 
hesitate  as  to  what  answer  to  give. 

Our  consciousness,  therefore,  distinctly  assures  us, 
that,  within  the  limits  constituting  its  appropriate 
sphere,  the  action  of  the  will  truly  originates  in  its 
own  power.  It  wills,  because  it  has  the  power  to 
will.  It  acts,  because  it  possesses  that  energy  which 
is  requisite  to  constitute  the  basis  of  action.  In  the 
language  of  one  of  the  characters  of  the  great  English 
dramatist,  when  pressed  for  the  reasons  of  a  certain 
course  of  proceeding, 

"The  cause  is  in  my  Will;  I  m-'?"//  not  come." 


ON    THE  POWER  OF  THE   WILL.  521 

§  489.  Proved  from  the  ability  which  we  have  to  direct  our  attention 
to  particular  subjects. 

In  one  particular  at  least,  our  internal  experience 
seems  to  be  clear  and  decisive,  viz.,  that  we  are  able 
to  direct  our  attention  to  some  subjects  of  inquiry  in 
preference  to  others.  It  is  admitted  that  we  cannot 
call  up  a  thought  or  a  train  of  thought  by  a  mere  and 
direct  act  of  volition ;  although  we  have  an  indirect 
power  in  this  respect,  which  is  not  without  its  impor 
tant  results.  But  when  various  trains  of  thought  are 
passing  through  the  mind,  we  are  enabled,  as  it  is 
presumed  every  one  must  be  conscious,  to  direct  our 
attention  and  to  fix  it  firmly  upon  one  thought  or  one 
train  of  thought  in  preference  to  another.  It  is  un- 
doubtedly the  tendency  of  association  to  remove  the 
thought  or  the  train  of  thought,  whatever  it  is,  from 
the  mind ;  but  the  power  of  the  Will,  where  it  is  de- 
cisively exerted,  can  counteract  this  tendency,  and 
keep  the  mind  in  essentially  the  same  position  for  a 
greater  or  less  length  of  time.  And  it  does  not  ap- 
pear what  explanation  can  possibly  be  given  of  the 
fact,  that  we  thus  frequently  delay  upon  subjects,  and 
revolve  them  in  our  contemplation,  except  on  the 
ground  of  a  real  and  effective  energy  of  the  Will. 

§  490.  Proof  of  power  in  the  will  from  observation. 

Furthermore,  the  phenomena  of  human  nature,  as 
they  come  within  our  constant  observation,  cannot  be 
explained,  except  on  the  supposition  that  the  Will  is 
not  the  subject  of  any  extraneous  operation  or  pow- 
er, in  such  a  sense  as  entirely  to  exclude  power  or 
agency  of  its  own.  Do  we  not  often  see  instances  of 
persons,  in  whom  vigour  of  the  Will  is  a  characteris- 
tic and  predominant  trait;  and  whose  character  and 
conduct  cannot  be  explained,  except  on  the  ground 
that  they  possess  a  voluntary  energy  of  their  own, 
and  that,  too,  in  a  high  degree  ?  Men  have  often  been 
placed  in  the  most  trying  circumstances,  called  to  en- 
dure the  pains  of  imprisonment,  and  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  torture  and  exile  and  death ;  and  they  have  un- 
dergone it  all  with  a  most  astonishing  fortitude  and 
Xx  2 


522  ON   THE   POWER   OF   THE   WILL. 

calmness,  without  shedding  a  tear  or  uttering  a  lam- 
entation. Here  is  something  difficult  to  be  explain, 
ed,  unless  we  take  into  consideration  that  innate  pow- 
er which  we  assert  to  be  an  attribute  of  the  Will. 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  fervid  sincerity  of 
his  religion  or  the  natural  benevolence  of  his  heart, 
are  we  able  satisfactorily  to  explain  the  character  and 
deeds  of  the  illustrious  Howard,  except  by  taking  this 
view  ?  "  The  energy  of  his  determination,"  says  a 
judicious  and  valuable  writer,  "was  so  great,  that  if, 
instead  of  being  habitual,  it  had  been  shown  only  for 
a  short  time  on  particular  occasions,  it  would  have 
appeared  a  vehement  impetuosity ;  but,  by  being  un- 
intermitted,  it  had  an  equability  of  manner  which 
scarcely  appeared  to  exceed  the  tone  of  a  calm  con- 
stancy, it  was  so  totally  the  reverse  of  anything  like 
turbulence  or  agitation.  It  was  the  calmness  of  an 
intensity,  kept  uniform  by  the  nature  of  the  human 
mind  forbidding  it  to  be  more,  and  by  the  character 
of  the  individual  forbidding  it  to  be  less."* 

The  case  of  Howard,  marked  and  extraordinary  as 
it  is,  does  not  stand  alone.  Every  age  of  the  world 
and  every  class  of  society  have  their  men  of  this 
stamp.  Extraordinary  endowments  of  the  will  are 
as  necessary  to  support  society,  and  to  meet  the  ex- 
igencies of  our  situation,  as  extraordinary  endow- 
ments of  intellect.  But,  unfortunately,  though  they 
are  given  in  the  discretion  and  wisdom  of  the  great 
Dispenser  of  all  mental  gifts,  they  are  not  always 
wisely  and  righteously  employed.  A  multitude  of 
instances,  of  a  character  both  good  and  evil,  will  oc- 
cur to  every  one ;  among  others,  Alexander,  Caesar, 
Eegulus,  Charles  XII.,  Hannibal,  Columbus,  the  Apos- 
tle "Paul,  Cromwell,  William  Tell,  Chatham,  Nelson, 
Ledyard,  Mungo  Park,  Napoleon,  John  Knox,  Lu- 
ther, Whitefield,  Wesley,  and  numerous  others,  whose 
names  are  permanently  enrolled  in  the  religious  and 
political  history  of  men.  The  language  of  Ledyard 
will  show  the  intensity  of  determination  existing  in 
such  men.     "  My  distresses  have  been  greater  than  J 

*  Foster's  Essay  on  Decision  of  Character. 


ON   THE   POWER   OF   THE   WILL.  523 

Lave  ever  owned,  or  ever  w;i7^  own  to  any  man.  I  have 
known  hunger  and  nakedness  to  the  utmost  extrem- 
ity of  human  suffering ;  I  have  known  what  it  is  to 
have  food  given  me  as  charity  to  a  madman ;  and  ] 
have  at  times  been  obliged  to  shelter  myself  under 
the  miseries  of  that  character  to  avoid  a  heavier  ca- 
lamity. Such  evils  are  terrible  to  bear,  but  they  nev- 
er have  yet  had  j^oiuei^  io  turn  me  from  my  purpose.'''' 

§  491.  Illustration  of  the  subject  from  the  command  of  temper. 

The  fact  that  men  are  not  governed  by  a  fatality 
impressed  upon  them  from  an  exterior  cause,  but 
have  an  efficiency  in  themselves,  may  be  further  il- 
lustrated from  the  control  which  they  are  seen  to  ex- 
ercise over  their  passions,  in  what  is  called  comviand 
of  tenqxr.  Few  sayings  are  more  celebrated  than  that 
of  Socrates  on  a  certain  occasion  to  his  servant,  that 
he  would  beat  him  if  he  were  not  angry.  Hume, 
W'ho  is  entitled  to  the  credit  of  being  a  careful  ob- 
server of  human  nature,  speaks  expressly  of  the  re- 
markable command  of  temper  which  was  possessed 
by  Henry  IV.  of  England ;  and  it  is  not  uncommon 
to  find  this  trait  pointed  out  by  historians  and  biog- 
raphers as  one^worthy  of  particular  notice.  The  bi- 
ographer of  our  illustrious  countryman,  Mr.  Jay,  says, 
that  "he  sought  not  the  glory  which  cometh  from 
man,  and  the  only  power  of  which  he  was  covetous 
was  the  comma7id  of  himself  ^^"^  And  this  powder,  al- 
though he  was  obliged  to  contend  with  a  natural  irri- 
tability of  temper,  he  exhibited  in  a  very  high  degree. 

§  492.  Further  illustrations  of  this  subject. 

•  It  would  not  be  difficult  to  specify  other  distin- 
guished men,  both  of  our  own  and  other  countries, 
who  knew  how  to  conciliate  the  actings  of  a  sensitive 
and  enkindled  heart  with  the  coolest  circumspection 
and  the  most  perfect  self-command.  But  this  is  not 
necessary,  since  the  trait  in  question  is  one  daily  com- 
ing within  our  notice.  It  is  not  uncom'mon,  in  al- 
most every  village  and  neighbourhood^  to  observe 

*  Life  of  John  Jay,  vol.  i.,  chap.  xii. 


524  ON   THE   POWER   OP   THE   WILL. 

persons  of  naturally  quick  feelings,  and  whose  pa* 
sions  are  obviously  violent,  and  are  prone  to  foam 
and  toss  about  like  the  waves  of  the  sea,  who  never* 
theless  have  those  passions  under  complete  control, 
even  in  the  most  trying  circumstances. 

And  is  it  not  a  duty  to  exei'cise  this  control  ovet 
the  passions?  "He  that  ruleth  his  spirit,"  says  Sol- 
omon, "is  better  than  he  that  taketh  a  city."  And 
again,  "  He  that  hath  no  rule  over  his  own  spirit,  is 
like  a  city  that  is  broken  down  and  without  walls." 
"Be  ye  angry,"  says  the  Apostle,  "and  sin  not;  let 
not  the  sun  go  down  upon  your  wrath."  Here,  then, 
is  a  great  practical  fact  in  the  philosophy  of  the  mind, 
and  upon  which  important  and  solemn  duties  are 
based,  viz.,  that  the  passions  are  under  our  control. 
But  where  is  the  power  that  controls  them  ?  It  is 
not  enough  to  say  that  this  power  of  regulation  and 
control  is  deposited  in  the  understanding.  It  is  true 
that  the  understanding  can  suggest  various  and  im- 
portant reasons  why  this  control  should  be  exercised ; 
but  it  cannot  of  itself  render  those  reasons  effective 
and  available.  The  greatest  light  in  the  Understand- 
ing, and  even  if  it  were  carried  into  the  region  of  the 
Affections  and  the  Conscience,  could  ijever  bring  this 
great  result  to  pass  without  the  co-operation  of  the 
effective  energies  of  the  Will. 

§  493.  Illustrated  from  the  prosecution  of  some  general  plan. 

We  find  further  illustration  and  proof  of  that  en- 
ergy which  is  appropriate  to  the  Will,  in  instances 
where  individuals  adopt  "and  pursue,  for  a  length  of 
time,  some  general  plan.  Not  unfrequently  they  fix 
upon  an  object,  which  involves  either  their  interest 
or  their  duty,  and  prosecute  it  with  a  perseverance 
and  resolution  which  is  truly  astonishing.  Nor  is 
this  state  of  things  limited  to  those  who  have  been 
elevated  by  rank,  or  have  had  the  advantages  of  learn- 
ing. It  is  often  the  case,  that  we  see  this  fixedness 
of  purpose,  this  unalterable  resolution,  among  those 
who  have  been  greatly  depressed  by  poverty,  and 
who  are  ignorant  as  well  as  poor. 


ON  THE   POWER   OF  THE    WILL.  525 

"In  the  obscurity  of  retirement,"  says  tlie  author 
of  Lacon,  "  amid  the  squalid  poverty  and  revolting 
privations  of  a  cottage,  it  has  often  been  my  lot  to 
witness  scenes  of  magnanimity  and  self-denial,  as 
much  beyond  the  belief  as  the  practice  of  the  great ; 
a  heroism  borrowing  no  support,  either  from  the  gaze 
of  the  many  or  the  admiration  of  the  few,  yet  flour- 
ishing amid  ruins  and  on  the  confines  of  the  grave; 
a  spectacle  as  stupendous  in  the  moral  world,  as  the 
Falls  of  Niagara  in  the  natural."  And  can  we  ex- 
plain this  greatness  of  soul,  this  fixedness  of  purpose, 
this  indomitable  resolution,  which  is  displayed  in  ev- 
ery condition  of  society,  in  humble  as  well  as  in  ele- 
vated life,  consistently  with  the  supposition  that  the 
Will  has  no  power  ? 

But  there  are  other  facts  of  a  higher  character  and 
a  more  general  interest,  as  they  involve  the  welfare, 
not  only  of  individuals  and  families,  but  of  whole 
classes  of  men.  They  are  too  numerous  to  be  men- 
;joned  here;  but  they  are  recorded,  and  will  long 
continue  to  be  so,  in  the  faithful  register  of  grateful 
hearts.  Are  there  not  many  individuals,  who,  like 
the  benevolent  Clarkson,  have  fixed  upon  some  plan 
of  good-will  to  ,men,  embracing  a  great  variety  and 
degree  of  effort,  and  have  pursued  it  amid  every  form 
of  trial  and  opposition  for  years  and  tens  of  years  ? 
The  individual  just  referred  to  proposed  the  simple 
object  of  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave  Trade.  To  this 
one  object  he  consecrated  his  life  and  all  his  powers. 
He  permitted  no  opposition  to  divert  him  from  his 
purpose.  But  amid  great  apathy  of  the  public  mind, 
and  great  opposition  on  the  part  of  those  who  were 
personally  interested  in  his  defeat ;  amid  the  most  ar- 
duous labours,  attended  with  a  thousand  discourage- 
ments, and  protracted  for  many  years;  in  rebuke, 
and  sickness,  and  sorrow,  this  one  object  was  the  star 
that  guided  him  on,  the  light  that  sustained  him,  and 
which  he  followed  without  giving  way  to  his  trials 
or  relaxing  in  the  least  frg^ui  his  efforts  until  it  was 
secured. 


526  ON   THE   POWER   OF   THE   WILL. 

§  494.  The  subject  illustrated  from  the  course  of  the  first  settlers  of 
New-England. 

The  course  of  the  first  settlers  of  New-England  ia 
an  instance  favourable  for  the  illustration  of  the  sub- 
ject before  us.  Their  simple  object  was  to  find  a 
residence  somewhere  where  they  could  live  in  the 
full  and  free  exercise  and  enjoyment  of  their  religion. 
And  this  was  an  object  which,  under  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  was  not  to  be  carried  into  effect 
without  great  firmness  and  perseverance.  They  left 
behind  them,  in  their  native  country,  a  thousand  ob- 
jects which  the  world  holds  most  dear.  Despised 
and  outcast,  they  came  to  these  inhospitable  shores 
in  sorrow,  and  weakness,  and  poverty.  They  suffered 
from  the  want  of  provisions,  from  the  prevalence  of 
wasting  sickness,  from  the  storms  and  cold  of  winter, 
and  from  the  watchful  jealousy  and  hostility  of  the 
savage  tribes.  Though  sincerely  and  ardently  re- 
ligious, it  cannot  be  denied  that  they  had  their  sea- 
sons of  discouragement ;  and  often  feared  and  often 
doubted.  But  when  all  without  was  darkness,  and 
when  even  the  inward  lights  burned  dimly,  the  high 
purpose  which  they  had  once  deliberately  and  pray- 
erfully formed  remained  unchanged..  They  tield  on 
by  the  anchor  of  a  determined  eesolve.  So  that  it 
can  be  said  with  almost  strict  truth,  that  the  Will 
sustained  them  when  the  Heart  was  broken. 

§  495.   Illustrated  by  the  fortitude  exhibited  by  Savages. 

We  might  go  on  multiplying  illustrations  of  this 
subject  almost  without  number;  drawn,  too,  from  ev- 
ery class  of  men,  and  from  every  condition  of  society, 
savage  as  well  as  civilized.  We  have  often  thought 
that  the  life  of  the  savage  warrior  furnished  an  inter- 
esting philosophical  problem.  Let  the  reader  go  with 
us  a  moment  to  yonder  dark  and  boundless  forest. 
Behold  beneath  the  light  of  the  uncertain  and  shud- 
dering moon,  the  fire  kindled  which  is  destined  to 
consume  the  victim  taken  in  war.  View  him  fasten- 
ed to  the  stake,  his  flesh  slowly  consumed,  and,  as  it 
is  burning,  torn  piecemeal  from  his  blackened  bones. 


ON   THE    POWER   OF   THE   WILL.  527 

What  inexpressible  suffering !  And  yet  this  dark 
son  of  the  forest,  this  poor  ignorant  child  of  nature, 
betrays  no  weakness  of  purpose,  sheds  no  tear,  utters 
no  exclamation  of  impatience.  His  enemies  can  take 
from  him  his  distant  wigwam,  his  wife  and  children, 
his  burning  body,  his  expiring  life ;  but  the  sudden 
death-song,  rising  loudly  and  triumphantly,  is  a  proof 
that  they  have  not  taken,  nor  are  they  able  to  take 
from  him,  the  firm  resolve,  the  unconquerable  Will. 

Here  are  the  facts  which  are  presented  before  us ; 
not  all,  indeed,  which  can  be  brought  forward,  and 
perhaps  they  are  not  those  which  are  best  adapted  to 
our  purpose.  But,  such  as  they  are,  they  are  unde- 
niable. They  are  inscribed  on  every  page  of  the 
history  of  the  human  race.  And  we  may  challenge 
philosophy  or  anything  else  satisfactorily  to  explain 
them,  except  on  the  ground  of  the  innate  energy,  not 
merely  of  the  mind  as  a  whole,  but  of  the  volitional 
faculty  in  particular. 


QUESTIONS 


QUESTIONS 


UPHAMS  ABRIDGMENT  OF  MENTAL  fHILOSOPHY 
BY  THE  REV.  L.  L.  SMITH. 

OF    NORFOLK,    VA 


CHAPTER  1 

'fa.   Sort  , 

T.     1.  Is  the  human  mind  a  unit,  or  composed  of  many  dcpai-tmonts  i 

8.  Its  three  leasiing  divisions  ? 

3.  How  are  the  states  of  mind,  the  results  of  these  leadin.g  depart- 
ments, expressed? 

t.     2.  What  is  the  intellect? 

5.  In  what  two  points  of  view  may  the  intellectual  part  of  man  V 

considered  ? 

8.  Upon  what  does  the  existence  of  intellectual  states  of  exfcemal  ori- 

gin depend  ? 

7.  How  is  this  shown  ? 

8.  What  are  intellectual  states  of  internal  origin? 

9.  3.  What  kind  of  knowledge  is  first  acquired  ? 

10.  Does  the  mind  of  the  new-born  infant  possess  any  knowledge  ? 

11.  How  is  it  first  brought  into  action  ? 

12.  How  does  it  appear  that  there  is  a  correspondence  betweea  tlit 

mind  and  outward  material  objects  ? 

13.  To  what  may  the  soul  be  compared  ? 

14.  Explain  the  points  of  resemblance. 

15.  4.  What  two  general  principles  are  here  laid  down? 

16.  The  first  proof  of  the  truth  of  these  principles  ? 

17.  5.  The  second  proof  of  it  ? 

18.  What  are  the  first  ideas  of  the  human  race? 

19.  To  what  may  the  history  and  origin  of  all  our  notions  be  traced  T 

20.  When  do  we  begin  to  compare,  and  reason,  and  seek  for  causes  »ai 

effects  ? 

21.  In  what  way  is  knowledge  most  easily  imparted  to  childient 
ii     6.  The  third  proof  of  the  truth  of  these  princijiles? 

23  Why  is  the  vocabulaiy  of  savage  tribes  so  limited  ? 

14  To  what  does  the  growth  of  languages  correspond? 

2,'i  What  do  we  learn  from  the  history  of  all  languages  ? 

it  Illustrate  the  fact  that  the  words  of  all  languages,  expresaii^e  of  S?!« 

mind,  had  an  external  origin. 

fy.  What  conclusion  may  you  derive  from  this  hrtl 

US  T.  The  fourth  proof  of  the  trath  of  these  principles  ? 

29  Illustrate  these  facts. 

30  What  facts  are  stated  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  man  of  the  city  ii  Cbai 

tres? 
31.         What  inference  would  you  deduce  from  them? 
»B.     9    Give  an  account  of  James  Mitchell 


4  UUE3TION3, 

CHAPTER  II, 

1.  9.  U  aonsaiicii  a  simple  or  complex  state  o(  fnudl 
9..  W  by  can  it  not  be  defined? 

3.  Is  its  simplicity  its  only  characteristic  ? 
i.  By  what  peculiarity  is  it  distinguished? 

t).  Wiiy  can  wa  not  speak  of  the  seusatioua  of  joy  and  scrrow  t 

<i.  Mention  several  of  the  sensations. 

T,  10.  Where  has  it,  by  some,  been  supposed  that  sensation  is  Imatsd? 

5.  Where  is  it  really  located  ? 

fl.  How,  then,  should  we  regard  the  organs  of  sense?  and  illugtrats 

\0.  11.  Are  our  sensations  copies,  pictures,  or  images  of  outward  ubjecU  1 

11  Do  they  possess  any  of  the  qualities  of  outward  objects? 

12  What  do  you  mean  by  this  ? 

!.t.  l-J.  Is  the  aft'ection  of  the  mind  coetaneous  with,  or  subsequent  to,  t!:« 

operation  of  external  bodies  on  the  mind? 
I  i.  The  character  and  extent  of  this  operation  ? 

\'i.  The  extent  of  our  knowledge  on  this  subject? 

!().  Wliat  change  takes  place  subsequently  to  the  change  in  the  crga* 

of  sense? 
17.  What  do  we  know  of  the  connection  between  mind  and  matter? 

is.   13.  How  does  perception  differ  from  sensation? 
it!.  How  is  the  term  sometimes  used? 

):.'.  Deiiae  it. 

;!.  14.  Is  it  a  complex  or  a  simple  state  of  the  miod  ? 
'^~'.  Distinguish  between  it  and  sensation, 

ii.'i.  What  would  be  the  nature  and  extent  of  our  knowledge,  if  we  na< 

but  sensation  alone,  without  perception? 
i!4.   15.  What  do  we  know  of  matter? 
25.  Under  what  two  heads  have  the  qualities  of  material  bodies  beei 

ranked  ? 
?6.  How  are  the  pinmary  qualities  known  ;  and  what  are  they  ? 

27.  Why  called  primary  ? 

28.  What  do  jou  mean  by  solidity  ? 

29.  Show  that  water  is  solid  in  this  sense. 

SO.  The  Florentine  experiment?  and  what  did  it  prove? 

31.  16.  The  secondary  qualities  of  bodies,  how  divided? 

32.  What  are  incluiled  under  the  first  class? 

33.  What  is  meant  when  we  say  a  body  has  sound,  color,  etc.  ? 

34.  Mention  some  of  the  second  class  of  secondary  bodies. 

CHAPTER  III. 

1.  17.  Is  the  possession  of  organs  of  sense  essential  to  the  possession  o* 

that  knowledge  which  we  are  accustomed  to  ascribe  to  them  ? 

2.  How  is  this  shown? 

7.  How  does  it  ap[)ear  that  they  are  essential  to  human  knowledge ' 

4.  18    Can  the  senses  be  separated  from  the  nervous  system  ? 
i.  Can  they  perform  their  duty  if  the  brain  be  injured  ? 

6.  Can  they,  if  the  nerves  be  tightly  compressed? 

7.  What  may  be  inferred  from  these  facts  ? 
>.  What  is  the  sensorial  organ? 

9.         What  is  essential  to  the  sensations  of  hearing,  seeing,  etc.? 
'J    19.  How  is  the  sensation  of  smell  produced? 
!l    iO.  What  is  the  olfactory  nerve  ? 
IS  Is  there  any  necessary  connection  between  the  smell  and  surroauii 

ing  objects  ? 
I J  How  does  it  happen  that  we  are  rot  merely  sensible  of  the  parties 

lar  sensation,  but  refer  it  fit  once  to  tlie  p&iticular  exterual  obje«i 

that  produces  it? 


aUESTIONS.  2 

14,  21.  She  w  that  this  mental  reference  is  made  with  grett  -apidsty. 

15.  Why  is  it  so  ? 

iS.  What  three  things  are  involved  in  the  process  of  perceptiois  / 

17.  22    What  is  the  organ  of  taste  ? 

18.  Is  it  confined  to  the  tongue  ? 

19.  W  hy  do  we  speak  of  particular  bodies  as  sweet,  or  aour,  cto.  5 
i!0.          W  hat  do  we  mean  when  we  call  them  sweet  or  sour  ? 

CHAPTER  IV. 

I,  23.  How  is  sound  produced  ? 

8.  WlTat  is  the  organ  of  hearing? 

S.         V/hy  are  the  ears  placed  in  the  side  of  tlie  head  ? 

4.  How  are  they  formed,  and  why  so  formed? 

fi.  What  is  the  tympanum  of  the  ear? 

e.  By  what  is  the  sound  communicated  to  the  mind? 

7  S4.  Are  the  sensations  of  sound  more  or  les.s  numerons  than  tbe  worJj 

in  the  English  language? 

8  How  would  you  illustrate  this  fact  ? 

9.  How  many  simple  sounds  are  there,  according  to  Cr.  Reid  ? 

iS.  How  are  varieties  and  shades  of  difference  of  the  same  tcno  pn; 

duced  ?  and  illustrate. 
11.  «S    How  do  we  know  the  place  whence  sounds  originate  ? 
12*.  What  renders  our  ignorance  of  their  place,  previous  to  experioacj 

less  surprising  ? 
\•^.  Illustrate  this  fact. 

i«.  How  do  we  learn  to  distinguish  the  place  of  things? 

15.  How  is  this  shown  ? 

16.  If  a  man,  bom  deaf,  were  suddenly  restored  to  his  hearhig,  whBti' 

would  ho  locate  the  sounds  he  might  hear? 
(7.  What  alone  would  teach  him  their  true  source? 

CIIAPTEll  V. 

1.  2(3.  The  principal  organ  of  the  ciense  of  touch? 

i'..  Why  located  principally  in  the  hand  ? 

.1.  In  v,'hat  respect  does  the  sense  of  touch  differ  from  those  of  Ijeariaa 

tasting,  smelling? 
i.  27.  What  knowledge  would  we  derive  from  tbe  sense  of  smelling  alono' 
5.  What  additional  ideas  would  we  derive  from  these  sensations? 

«I.  What  feelings  would  these  ideas  excite  in  the  mind? 

:,  If  we  had  no  other  sense,  how  should  we  regard  these  feelings  ? 

8.'  How  do  wo  iiet  the  idea  of  externality  or  outwardness? 

9.  What  would  be  our  condition  without  the  senses  of  touch  and  sjghi 

10.  How  does  the  sense  of  touch  give  us  the  idea  of  outwardness  ? 

11.  28    How  do  we  arrive  at  the  idea  of  extension? 

19.         Why  can  not  the  idea  of  extension  be  resolved  into  others  ? 

'.3.         The"foundatiou  of  the  idea  oiform  in  bodies  ? 

U.  Dr.  Brown's  definition  of  form? 

15.  Which  is  antecedent  in  the  idea  of  nature,  the  idea  of  ferns  or  i.^ 

extension  ? 
U',  S9.  The  two  significations  of  tbe  words  heat  and  cold  ? 
?.         What  are  the  qualities  in  bodies  which  give  us  the  sensation  of  lit  51 

and  cold  ? 
13  Mention  some  of  the  various  opinions  respecting  them. 

19.  Do  they  resemble  the  sensations  they  occasion  ? 

SO.  SO.  When  is  a  body  called  bard  or  soft? 
?l  How  do  we  arrive  at  the  sensation  of  liardness  ? 

{.:.  Why  is  it  difficult  to  make  this  sensntiop  an  object  of  rcflfctiou  ' 

r;;{  In  wiiat  cnses  is  it  not  at  all  {lilHru'r  ? 

.         Y  Y  2 


n  uL'Krf  rioN». 

Qi:.  Sect. 

24.  Why  is  it  important  to  attend  to  it? 

as.  31.  To  wliat  sense  would  you  ascribe  the  feelings  expressed  Dj   Cut 
terms  uneasiness,  weariness,  sickness,  and  the  Vikel 

26.  W^liat  remarks  are  made  of  hunger  and  thirst? 

27.  Why  is  it  difficult  to  state  what  sense  they  should  be  ascribed  t.d 

28.  3i.  What  two  things  always  exist  when  we  speak  of  extension,  or  ra 

sistauce,  or  heat,  or  color,  etc.  ? 
83.  Do  they  resemble  one  another  7 

30.  How,  then,  can  one  give  us  a  knowledge  of  l/iC  other  ? 

81.  How  would  you  illustrate  this  ? 

a  What  is  the  relation  between  the  sensation  z  .  J  the  outward  Cibjcct  < 

CHAPTER,  VI 

1,  "J2  The  most  valuable  of  the  five  senses  ? 

%  Show  its  superiority  over  the  touch. 

3,  To  what  is  the  eye  compared  ? 

4.  The  medium  on  which  it  acts  ? 

5  To  what  science  does  a  description  of  the  ej  e  belong  ? 

e.  33.  Wiiat  would  be  the  eifect  if  the  rays  of  li^.;ht  that  first  strike  tn« 
eye  were  to  continue  on,  iu  the  same  direction,  to  the  retina  ? 

7.  How  is  this  prevented  ? 

8.  What  is  the  retina? 

f).  The  last  step  we  are  able  to  trace  iu  the  material  part  of  the  pm 

cess  in  visual  perception  ? 
1.3.  How  is  the  image  conveyed  to  the  mind  ? 

11.  35.  What  knowledge  do  we  derive  originally  from  the  sense  of  sight  ? 
13.  Can  we  obtain  the  idea  of  color  from  any  other  sense? 

13.  What  ]-..uowledge  is  generally,  though  erroneously,  ascribed  to  the 

sense  of  sight  ? 
U.  33.  Is  extension  a  direct  object  of  sight? 

15.  How  do  we  get  the  idea  of  extension? 

16.  Can  we  get  it  from  any  other  or  all  of  the  four  remaiui"?  senses  7 

17.  Why  doany  suppose  that  this  idea  is  due  to  the  sense  of  si^ht? 

18.  37.  How  do  we  get  the  idea  of  figure  ? 

19.  To  what  is  it  often  attributed? 

?ij.  Do  we  really  see  prominences  or  cavities  in  solid  bodies  ? 

l\.  What  do  we  see  in  them? 

X-2.  Why  do  we  then  suppose  that  we  really  see  them  1 

l\i.  How  is  the  fact  that  we  do  not  see  them  proved? 

24.  33.  What  was  the  problem  submitted  to  Mr.  Locke;  and  his  decision! 

25.  The  first  idea  conveyed  to  the  mind  on  seeing  a  globe  ? 

26.  How  is  it  corrected  ? 

27.  How  is  the  truth  of  this  statement  shown  ? 

23.  Why  do  we  ever  attribute  to  sight  the  knowledge  that  is  acquired 

by  touch  only  ? 
29    39.  How  is  a  knowledge  of  magnitude  first  obtained? 
33.  The  difference  between  tangible  and  visible  magnitude? 

:U.         What  fact  is  stated  iu  support  of  the  doctrine  that  the  kiiowkdjrt 

of  magnitude  is  not  an  original  intimation  of  sight  ? 

33  JO.  What  is  said  of  the  visible  magnitude  of  objects  seen  in  a  miit  ?     - 
33.  How  is  this  fact  accounted  for? 

34  To  what  may  it,  in  part,  be  attributed  ? 

35  41.  Mention  three  reasons  why  the  sun  and  moon  seem  larger  in  tho  hi- 

rizon  than  iu  the  meridian. 
Jft .    12.  What  is  meant  by  the  term  distance  7 

37.  Is  the  perception  of  distance  an  acquired  or  an  crigiual  perception  1 

38.  How  do  all  objects,  in  the  first  instance,  appear  to  us  ? 

39.  W^hy  do  they  not  appear  so  now  ? 

tO  W^hat  facts  are  stated  on  this  subject  7 


aUESTI0N3.  7 

41.  43.  How  do  we  leani  to  estimate  distances? 

19:  How  do  landscape  and  historical  painters  take  advantage  uf  li'il 

fact? 
13.  44.  Why  do  we  often  misjudge  in  estimating  the  width  of  rivers,  plaina 

etc.  ? 
<l  Whj'  also  in  estimating  the  height  of  steeples,  the  distance  of  the 

stars,  etc.  ? 
V'  Why  does  the  horbton  seem  further  off  tj an  the  zenith? 

i?    i  \   The  effect,  in  the  apparent  distance  of  objects,  of  a  ciiange  in  the  pu' 

rity  of  the  air  ? 

CHAPTER  VII. 

i    i'j    Repeat  the  law  of  habit. 

i  Kovv  is  this  l^nown  7 

3  Can  it  be  resolved  into  any  more  general  or  elementary  principle  J 

i  What  is  indicated  by  the  term  habit  ? 

5.         Mention  some  of  the  things  to  which  we  apply  the  term. 

e.  47.  Is  it  confined  to  the  mind? 

7.  Its  etfects  on  the  bodily  organs  ? 

.S  Mention  several  respects  in  which  individuals  are  distinguished  from 

one  another  by  habit. 
J.  48.  What  is  said  of  habits  of  smeU? 

10.  What  facts  are  stated  illustrative  of  this  truth? 

11.  49.  The  eifects  of  habit  on  taste  f 

13.         What  practical  view  of  this  subject  presents  itsolf  here  ?  and  illua 
trate. 

13.  State  the  three-fold  operation  in  suoh  csiscs. 

14.  The  only  remedy  for  one  whose  habits  »re  so  confirmed  7  and  why  1 
;5.  50.  Show  that  the  sense  of  hearing  is  capable  of '•'iltivation. 

i6.  In  whom  is  it  very  acute  7  and  wh  /  T 

17.  What  facts  are  stated  of  the  blind? 

16.  51.  Mention  some  facts  showing  that  the  see*'^  <  tcuxh  is  susceptible  d 
cultivation. 

19.  The  case  of  John  Metcalf  ? 

20.  How  are  books  for  the  blind  prepared  7 

21.  52.  Cases  of  James  Mitchell  and  Julia  Brace? 

22.  What  has  Diderot  conjectured  of  those  that  are  deprived  of  bo^ 

sight  and  hearing? 
93.  53.  Show  that  the  law  of  habit  affects  the  sight. 
84  What  persons  possess  the  sense  of  sight  in  greatest  perfectioa  i 

25.  How  is  this  accounted  for? 

26.  The  case  of  the  lady  at  Geneva,  mentioned  by  Bishop  CurcetT 

27.  What  may  we  learn  from  such  facts  ? 

2S.  54.  What  important  remark  is  here  made  with  reference  to  oar  aer«? 

tions  ? 
29.  How  is  it  explained  ? 

30    55    By  what  are  habits  often  modified? 
31.  Illustrate. 

3  2  duote  the  remarks  of  Dr.  Reid. 

33    i-3    Does  the  mind  perceive  the  complete  figure  of  the  ol»J6Ct  at  oacsK 
3  i  Mr.  Stewart's  opinion  ? 

3  J  How,  tlien,  does  it  happen  that  we  appear  to  see  the  object  8t  oi>c»i  J 

1 5    57    Mention  some  circumstances  that  tend  to  confirm  Mr.  Stewart's  viewi 

on  this  subject. 
2'    '<l  Mention  the  facts  stated  by  Sir  Everard  Home. 
:tB  {The  history  of  Caspar  Hauser  ?) 


U'JESTIONS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

_    59.  What  is  meant 'oy  :;onceptions  ? 

2  How  do  they  differ  from  the  ordiuary  sensations  mi  peieepMoi     ' 

3.  Illustrate. 

4  How  do  they  differ  from  ideas  of  memory  7 

5.  How  are  they  regulated  in  their  appearance  and  disappearance  ? 

5  What  is  meant  by  the  power  of  conception? 

t'    €8    What  striking  fact  in  regard  to  our  conceptions  is  mentioned?  sjid 

illustrate. 
S  What  facts  are  related  of  the  celebrated  traveler,  Carsteu  Niehuhr  7 

f  Of  what  senses  are  the  conceptions  least  vivid  ? 

■A  How  do  you  explain  the  fact  that  our  perceptions  of  sight  are  more 

easily  and  distinctly  recalled  than  others? 
1.  61.  On  what,  besides  association,  does  the  power  of  forming  conceptioni 

depend  ?  and  illustrate. 
;2.         What  fact  is  stated  of  Beethoven  ? 

13.  62.  Illustrate  the  influence  of  habit  on  conceptions  of  sight. 

14.  63.  What  is  re-iiarked  of  the  subserviency  of  our  conceptions  to  descnf> 

tion? 

15.  In  what  does  the  perfection  of  description  consist  ? 
l*J.  The  best  rule  for  making  the  selection  of  particulars? 

17.  Why  is  it  easier  to  give  a  happy  description  from  the  conception  <A 

an  object  than  from  an  actual  perception  of  it  ? 

18.  What  great  element  of  poetic  power  is  mentioned  ? 

1.9.  64.  State  several  facts  to  show  that  our  conceptions  are  attended  witi 
a  momentary  belief. 

20.  Why  only  momentary? 

21.  In  whom  is  this  particularly  observed  ? 

22.  What  fact  is  stated  of  Dr.  Priestly  ? 

23.  C5.  In  what  cases  is  the  belief  in  our  mere  conceptions  the  more  evivleii* 

and  striking  ? 
84.  What  is  related  of  one  of  the  characters  sketched  by  Sir  Walter 

Scott? 
25.  6S.  How  are  the  effects  produced  ou  the  mind  by  exhibitions  of  fictilio-i« 

distress  explained  / 
v..  What  else  does  this  fact  explain  ? 

CHAPTER  IX. 

1.  tr.  Into  what  two  classes  are  our  mental  affections  divided? 

2  C8.  The  first  characteristic  of  a  simple  idea  ? 

3  fiD.  The  second  characteristic  ? 

4.  What  is  essential  to  a  legitimate  definition  ? 

5.  Why  will  not  this  process  apply  to  our  simple  thoughts  and  feeling?  ' 
t«.  If  an  individual  professes  to  be  ignorant  of  the  terms  \ye  use  wht« 

we  speak  of  simple  ideas  and  feeUngs,  how  can  we  aid  him  in  un 

derstanding  the:n? 
7.  (Can  you  illustrate  this  remark  ?) 

»    7C    The  third  characteristic  of  a  simple  mental  state? 
9.  What  does  Mr.  Locke  mean  by  chimerical  ideas?  and  why  daoi  hi 

so  style  them  ? 
ll  Illustrate. 

(I.   n     Which  were  first  in  origin,  our  simple  or  our  complex  ststea  d 

mind  ? 
\%  What  simple,  notions  are  embraced  in  our  complex  rotions  of  extero 

si  material  objects  ? 
'S  fll  v»hat  are  our  complex  ideas  made  up? 


O'lKSTIONS. 
►•i.  n«i 

i.i.  V'.'l,  ii-1)  are  most  numerous,  the  simple  or  the  complex  statts  cf  mind  'i 

15  To  what  may  the  ability  of  origiuatiug  complex  thoughts  and  feeliugj 

be  compared? 
Ifl    72    What  opinion  has  been  advanced  by  some  with  respect  to  the  pri 

ority  of  the  simple  mental  states  ?  and  illustrate. 

17  How  is  this  appearance  explained? 

18  73.  Are  our  thoughts  and  feelings  made  up  of  others,  or  complex  in  itit 

material  sense  of  the  expression  ? 
(3.  What,  then,  constitutes  their  complexness  ? 

*0.  How  is  this  subject  illustrated? 

it.  How  is  the  language  which  expresses  the  compositicti  and  couip  ec 

ity  of  thought  to  be  regarded  ? 
y^    'i    Wliat  do  you  understand  by  the  term  analysis  ? 

53  What  is  the  distinction  between  the  analysis  of  material  bodies  icc 

of  complex  thoughts  ? 

54  When  do  we  perform  mental  analysis  ? 
2''  Analyze  the  term  government. 

26.  75.  To  what  is  the  doctrine  of  simplicity  and  complexness  of  mental  stele* 

applicable  ? 
87.  Are"  the  acts  of  the  will  simple  or  comj)lex? 

23.  What  nre  our  simple  ideas? 

2U.  Are  our  ideas  of  external  objects  simple  or  complex?  and  illustrstt. 

30.  76.  What  a)-e  some  of  the  elements  presented  in  the  term  loadstone? 
V.  Also  ia  t!:e  term  gold  ? 

CKAPTEIl  X. 

1.  /7.  What  is  abstraction  ? 

2.  What  are  abstract  ideas  ? 

3.  Into  what  two  classes  may  they  be  divided? 

4.  78.  What  are  particular  abstractions  ?  and  illustrate. 

5.  The  distinctive  mark  of  particular  abstract  ideas? 

6.  Does  the  abstraction  exist  in  the  object  itself,  or  only  in  the  mind? 

7.  7S.  Does  the  mind  possess  a  separate  faculty  adapted  solely  to  this  par- 

ticular purpose  ? 

8.  Is  it  nearer  to  the  truth  to  speak  of  the  process  or  the  power  of  ab- 

straction ? 

9.  What  must  necessarily  take  place  in  every  case  of  separating  a  par 

ticular  abstract  idea  ? 
10.  What  is  said  of  the  principle  of  association  in  abstraction  ? 

li.  Illustrate. 

\2.  What,  then,  is  the  process  of  the  mind  in  abstraction  ? 

13.  80    What  are  general  abstract  ideas  ? 
1  i  How  are  they  distinguished  from  the  great  bcdy  of  our  other  complsx 

notions  ? 
15.  How  are  general  abstract  ideas  expressed  ? 

13    81.  What  fact  shows  that  we  find  no  practical  diflSculty  in  formirig  the»S 

classifications  ? 
17.  What  is  the  process  in  classification  7 

!8.  Illustrate. 

19.  S2    Are  our  early  classifications  always  coiTect 

20.  Why  are  they  sometimes  incorrect,  and  hew  are  they  correctad  f 
2i    R3    Give  an  illustration  of  our  earliest  classifications? 

£2    84.  Does  the  general  idea  embrace  every  particular  whic''j  mak&s  a  pill 

of  the  corresponding  object  ? 
J3  Illustrate. 

S?^.  Why  called  abstract  ideas  .' 

2,",  Why  called  f;eneral  I 

8fi.  05    VVhat  is  said  of  the  ability  which  the  mind  possesses  of  forrcing  ei;i 

ideas  ? 


«e'i.  SecL 

27.  W!,;it  power  does  tliis  give  ns? 

28.  WI13'  should  we  not  be  able  even  to  number  without  thi&  it  Hit;  ? 
S9.  86.  State  the  process  ia  'orming  general  abstract  truths. 

JS.  87.  What  is  the  difference  between  the  speculations  of  philosophera  and 

of  coniinon  men  ? 
II.  Why  aru  their  general  reasonings  not  so  difficult  in  peiformanv'e  tt 

is  apt  to  be  supposed  ? 
IS.  What  is  said  of  the  speculations  of  the  great  bulk  of  mankiad  1 

CHAPTER  XI. 

1     !!    WHinl  is  attention  ? 

?  Is  it  a  separate  intellectual  faculty  ? 

1  Is  the  distinct  and  exclusive  mental  perception  all  of  attention  7 

1  What  is  it  that  keeps  the  mind  intanse  and  fixed  in  its  pcsiticn  ! 

5    33,   \Vhen  is  the  attention  said  to  be  slight,  and  when  intense  ? 

ti  How  do  we  commonly  judge  of  the  degree  of  attention  given  to  « 

subject  ? 
■?.  What  is  it  that  induces  us  to  bestow  much  time  on  any  subject? 

8  What  remark  is  made  of  Julias  Caesar's  and  Bonaparte's  power  c.f 

attention  ? 
9.  00.  On  what  does  memory  depend,  and  how  is  this  shown  ? 

0.  Mention  five  facts  that  confirm  this  statement. 
II.  Q.uote  Shakspeare's  remark  on  this  subject. 

J2.  91.  What  important  direction  is  here  given,  and  the  reason  for  it ! 

•3.  State  the  disadvantages  of  attempting  to  learn  too  many  thinge  ai 

once. 
'4.  The  most  important  part  of  education? 

15.  How  is  this  effected  ? 

16.  By  what  process  is  the  mind  weakened  ? 

k7.  92.  Is  it  an  easy  matter  to  keep  the  attention  fixed  on  one  subject? 

18.  The  cause  of  the  difficulty  ? 

19.  By  what  is  intense  attention  always  accompanied? 

20.  What  is  the  only  thing  tliat  will  confuie  the  minds  of  men  la  eck<i> 

tific  pursuits  ? 

21.  What  does  Mr.  Locke  say  on  this  subject  ? 
as.  What  anecdote  is  related  of  D' Alembert  ? 

CHAPTER  XII. 

1.  93.  What  are  dreams  ? 

2.  Why  have  they  excited  so  much  attention  ? 

3.  Can  any  one  be  found  that  has  never  dreamed  ? 

i.  91.  The  first  thing  that  aiTests  our  attention  in  dreams  ? 

5.  How  is  it  accounted  for? 

6.  What  facts  are  related  of  Condorcet  and  Franklin? 

7.  What  of  Coleridge  ? 

8.  The  inference  from  these  facts? 

9.  Why  did  President  Edwards  think  it  needful  to  notice  his  drcsojil 
10.  65.  What  other  circumsta'>ice  affects  our  dreams  ? 

H,  State  the  two  facts  rokited  in  evidence  of  this. 

IS.  What  other  cause  still  of  dreams  is  mentioned? 

13  State  the  facts  mentioned  in  evidence  of  this. 

14  What  else  has  considerable  influence  in  producing  dreamg.  sm!  »•-'■ 

ing  them  a  particular  character? 
■'  ^    S3    The  first  cause  of  the  incoherency  of  dreams  ? 
■f  What  keeps  the  ti'ain  of  our  thoughts  coherent  and  anifonn  wh.jla  ••^l 

are  awake  ? 
i'i    ^'    The  second  cause  of  the  incoherency  of  breams  ? 
!  S  Is  the  mind  ever  inactive  ? 


tilESJ  lONa.  1 

-(a  seel 

VJ.  To  vv'iat  a.'e  our  thoughts  and  feelings  during  sleep  ooinpa;e« 

SO.  98.  How  do  objects  and  events  appear  to  us  in  dreams* 

2j.  The  first  cause  of  this  apparent  reality? 

22.  How  is  this  explained  ? 

23.  When  are  our  conceptions  most  distinct  tJid  vivid  ?  axid  whj     I 
S<.  J9    The  second  cause  of  the  apparent  reality  of  dreams  ? 

25  Illustrate. 

•26  In  what  case  does  belief  always  attend  our  perceptionfl  7 

87  100    How  do  we  estimate  time  in  dreaming  ?  and  illustrate. 

S^  Repeat  the  anecdote  related  by  Dr.  Abercrombie. 

3>  Relate  that  of  Count  Lavalette. 

V.  a      How  is  this  estimate  of  time  explained  by  •omo  V 

{;  The  tnie  explanation  ? 

3V  Repeat  the  remarks  of  Stewart. 


PART    11. 

CHAPTER  I. 

f.  1C2.  Ijr  what  way  have  we  seen  the  mind  connected  with  th(   uaterla; 

world  ? 
9  Is  all  our  knowledge  derived  from  the  senses  ? 

3.  The  natural  progress  of  all  true  knowledge  ? 

1.  Locke's  doctrine  ? 

I.  103.  The  two  sources  of  knowledge  according  «o  him? 

6.  Mention  certain  ideas  which  could  not  be  derived  fion    extemaJ 

things. 

7.  What  might  be  styled  the  "internal  sense  ?" 
fl.           Tlie  name  commonly  given  to  it  ? 

9.  104.  In  making  the  human  soul  a  subject  of  inquiry,  what  distinction  torj 

be  drawn  ? 
10.  What  inquiiy  naturally  arises  here? 

r.  How  is  it  answered  ? 

'  .'.  Could  we  have  had  any  knowledge  without  the  senses  ? 

i.  105.  Is,  then,  the  whole  amount  of  our  knowledge  to  be  ascribed  dLrPctSj 
to  an  external  source  ? 

14,  ^Vhat  is  all  that  can  be  said  with  ti-uth  on  this  point? 

15.  What  are  ideas  of  reilection  ? 

IC.  Are  the  sources  of  human  thought,  the  internal  and  the  external 

distinct  or  confounded  ? 

17.  lOS.  Mention  some  of  the  notions  which  are  to  be  ascribed  to  t?)0  int<>  n 

al  sense. 

18.  Can  the  mind  remain  for  any  length  of  time  inactive  ? 
19  What  do  you  mean  by  thinking  ? 

83  Is  its  origin  internal  or  external  ? 

31.  The  origin  of  doubting  ? 

22  What  is  all  we  can  say  of  it? 

t'J  How  is  belief  occasioned  ? 

a  What  do  we  denominate  certainty? 

is    'C7    Mention  other  ideas  of  internal  origin  ? 

l£  How  is  it  determined  that  these  are  of  intern*!  origin} 

J?  Sara  up  wlift  has  been  said  in  this  chapter. 


[2  aUESTIONS. 

CHAPTER  II. 

•  '»■   Se-i 

1.  108.  How  is  tlu'  woril  sugg'estion  used? 

2.  Who  first  proposed  the  use  of  this  term  7 

3.  What  class  of  ideas  does  he  attribute  to  it? 

t.  What  are  some  of  the  ideas  wliich  Stewart  attriL:  es  fc  iti 

5.  What,  for  example,  does  he  say  of  duration? 

6  ICO    What  is  said  of  the  idea  of  existence  ? 

7  The  origin  of  the  notion  of  mind  ? 
i  Tlie  origin  of  personal  identity? 

9     ! '. ;  Why  does  the  author  decline  to  explain  the  nature  of  utiit>  .' 

C  How  has  it  been  defined  ? 

1  How  does  the  idea  of  it  oriyiuate  ? 

4  What  is  the  process  by  which  we  form  numbers  7 

!?     Ill  The  natare  of  succession? 

H  What  simple  fact  forms  the  occasion  on  v/hich  the  idea  of  »2£«.  c.# 

sion  is  suggested  to  the  mind  ? 

Ui  Why  can  it  not  be  defined  ? 

IS,  Show  that  it  can  not  be  referred  to  any  thing  external. 

17.  U2.  The  distinction  between  it  and  the  idea  of  duration? 

IS.  Whl';h  exists  first  in  the  order  of  nature,  succession  or  duratwp  ? 

19.  Why  do  we  know  nothing  of  duration  when  we  are  asleep? 

20.  1  U.  How  is  tM  priority  of  the  notion  of  succession  proved  ?  two  facts 

21.  114.  What  is  time? 

22.  How  is  it  measured  ? 

23.  How  does  it  differ  from  duration  ? 

24.  What  is  eternity  ? 

25.  1  l.'i.  The  origin  of  our  idea  of  space  ? 

26.  How  is  it  shown  not  to  be  external  ? 

27.  What  other  consideration  shows  the  same  tl>'ng  ? 
28  What  is  your  idea  of  space? 

2C.  116.  When  did  we  first  get  the  idea  of  space? 

30.  What  is  it  supposed  may  have  been  tl^e  original  occasion  of  lli/ 

rise  of  this 'idea? 
.n.  What  other  supposition  still  more  probable  is  mentioned? 

;i2.  117.  The  origin  of  the  idea  of  power? 

33.  Can  there  be  any  accountable  existence  without  it  ?  and  why  not,  I 

34  118.  State  the  three-fold  occasion  of  the  origin  of  this  idea? 

3-J.  119.  The  origin  of  the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong? 

36.  Show  tiiat  this  arrangement  of  them  has  an  important  connectioi 

with  the  theory  of  morals. 

37.  Can  right  ever  become  wronr,  or  wrong  right  T 

S8.  120.  Which  are  first  in  the  order  of  nature,  right  ant'  wiong,  or  laeril 
and  demerit  ? 

39.  What  is  implied  in  merit  and  demerit? 

40.  Can  the  ideas  of  merit  and  demerit  be  defined  ? 
41    121.  How  is  reason  defined  ? 

43  Why  does  the  au  ,hor  prefer  the  term  suggestion,  as  designat^ve 

of  ;he  origin  of  the  ideas  we  have  been  considering,  to  tb'i  woJti 
reason  ? 

«0  Mention  other  ideas  which  should  be  referred  to  suggesSioc. 

M    12?    Is  original  suggestion  the  basis  of  ideas  only  ? 

45  T}ie  basis  of  the  comparative  intellect  ? 

fi  jViIention  several  elementary  propositions  which  are  prerequisite!  a 

tte  exercise  of  the  de«^.uctire  faculty. 


u(jES'nui\s.  *•• 

CHAPTEa  III. 

1.  123    The  se.;or.d  source  of  our  internal  knowledge  T 
t.  Wliat  is  cousciousness  ? 

i.  Wbat  three  distinct  notions  ioes  eveiy  instance  of  coiiscioa«ao». 

embrace  ? 

4.  Illustrate. 

JJ,  1S4    Can  we  be  conscious  of  thoughts  or  emotions  th&t  have  agitata  ;  -a 

in  times  past? 
9.  Can  we  be  conscious  of  material  or  immaterial  objects  w  hicL  t  rs 

external  to  the  mind  ?     Illustrate. 
1  Are  we  conscious  of  the  existence  of  our  own  minds  7 

0  Of  what,  then,  are  we  conscious  ? 

9    li',.   What  is  said  of  the  belief  attendant  on  the  exercise  of  couac.)  .»■ 

ness  ? 
i  3.  The  reason  of  such  belief? 

11  ■'-Vhat  is  said  of  one  that  seriously  rejects  the  testimony  of  his  ov)„ 

consciousness  ? 

12.  I'^S.  Are  the  .deas,  states  jf  mind,  etc.,  that  come  within  the  range  of  c'.)n 

sciousness,  few  or  many  ? 

13.  Mention  several  of  the  various  degrees  of  belief  that  are  matters  ji 

consciousness. 

14.  Mention  the  names  of  other  intellectual  acts  and  operations  that  artj 

expressive  of  the  subjects  of  our  cousciousness. 

15.  W'hat  emotions  does  it  include  ? 

16.  What  complex  emotions  or  passions  does  it  include  ? 

17.  What  moral  and  religious  emotions  also? 

1 8  What  consideration  shows  us  that  this  enumeration  might  be  caT' 

ried  to  a  much  greater  extent  ? 

CHArTER  IV. 

1.  127.  What  is  remarked  of  the  expression,  "  The  mind  brings  its  thought* 

together,"  etc  ? 
3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  it  ? 

3.  "What  is  relative  suggestion  ? 

4  What  ultimate  fact  in  our  mental  nature  is  spoken  of  here? 

5.  128.  What  is  said  of  the  relations  of  things  and  of  thoughts  1  am)  (line 

trate.  .  .     ,    . 

S.  Mention  several  terms  that  express  the  ideas  of  reiatio  . 

;.  129.  What  are  correlative  terms  ? 

5  The  advantage  derived  from  their  use  ? 

i\  130.  Why  is  it  difficult  to  classify  our  relations  ? 
,0.  Repeat  the  seven  classes  enumerated. 

U.  What  is  said  of  the  relation  of  identity  and  diversity  ? 

13  Illustrate. 

'.3.  Show  the  utilitv  of  this  relation. 

14  131.  What  is  said  of  the  relation  of  degree?  and  illustrate. 

15  By  what  tenns  are  such  relations  expressed? 

>S  Show  how,  from  this  relation  alone,  the  importance  of  the  pr  =vsi  ;< 

relative  suggestion  is  shown. 
17    132.  In  what  respect  are  the  relations  of  proportion  peculiar? 
li  In  what  are  they  particularly  discoverable  ?_  _     _ 

*0     \'!2.  Under  what  circumstances  do  we  form  the  idea  of  the  reiatiorjt  o! 

place  ? 
ft'  What  is  meant  by  position  or  place  ? 

Ji  Illustrate. 

tl  Why  can  we  form  no  idea  of  the  position  of  the  universe  lonsidsri'* 

as  a  whole  ?  i  -•  /» 

a  What  is  meant  by  the  words  high  and  low,  near  ai  d  aistant? 

7  z 


I  I  QUESTIONS. 

•i'^-  **"  .     -  , ,  ,       ,       . 

24.  134.   How  do  time  ana  place  resemble  cadi  other? 

25  Are  o".r  notions  of  time  relative  or  absolute  ? 

26  Under  what  aspect  is  all  time  contemplated? 

S7.  What  do  we  m°an  when  we  say  of  any  event,  it  bappof  od  un  nam 

a  day  say  July  4th,  1V76  ?  and  illustrate. 
SB.  Under  what  head,  then,  may  all  dates  be  classed? 

29.  n").  What  is  meant  by  relations  of  possession  ? 

30.  How  soon  do  we  learn  this  relation  ?  and  illastrate. 
SI             Does  it  increase  or  diminish  in  strength? 

33  What  class  of  words  have  their  origin  her>3  ? 

i3  Show  that  the  verb  "  to  be"  often  expresses  this  relation. 

<  Mention  certain  complex  terms  which  involve  this  relation. 

?  5  iTC    What  does  the  notion  of  cause  and  efiect,  as  it  first  exists  ia  ikk 

mind,  include  ? 

IE  What  constitutes  the  full  notion  of  cause? 

37  Whatof  elf'ect? 

38  To  what  do  we  give  the  name  of  events  ? 

39,  137.  Mention  several  terms  in  which  the  relation  of  cause  ai^d  effuzi  ii 

embodied,  and  illustrate. 
10.  l.TS.  What  connection  has  relative  suggestion  with  reasoning  in  general  ' 
41.  What  relations  are  embraced  in  demonstrative  reasoning  ? 

<S).  What  in  moral  reasoning  ? 

CHAPTER  V. 

1.  '39    Why  do  we  take  up  the  subject  of  association  and  memory  bslorj 

that  of  the  reasoning  powers  ? 

2.  ISO.  What  is  mental  association? 

3.  Give  an  illustration  of  it. 

4.  Another,  from  Chateaubriand. 

5.  141.  Do  we  know  why  it  is  that  our  thoughts  and  feelings  succeed  one 

another  in  a  regular  train  ? 

6.  What  is  the  extent  of  our  knowledge  on  thia  subject  ? 

7.  What  is  meant  by  the  iavvs  of  association? 

8.  Repeat  the  most  important  of  them. 

9.  142,  What  do  we  mean  by  saying  that  new  trains  of  ideas  and  newenio 

tions  are  occasioned  by  resemblance  ? 

10.  How  is  this  fact  explained  ? 

11.  Illustrate  it. 

12.  Q.uote  the  remark  of  Landor. 

'  J.  Is  the  association  which  is  founded  ozi  resemblance  limited  to  objecU 

of  sight  ? 

14.  Repeat  the  poetry  on  this  subjec's. 

15.  1-13.  Show  in  what  way  resemblance  operates  tis  an  associating  prinei 

pie. 

16.  Give  several  illustrations  cf  this. 

17.  Repeat  the  comparison  of  Akenside. 

18.  Why  do  we  often  speak  of  nature  as  animated,  etc.? 

19.  144.   "What  is  the  law  of  contrast? 

20.  Give  the  outlines  of  Count  Lcmaistre's  story  of  the  /sper. 

21.  The  foundation  of  antithesis? 

93    1 4f .  The  law  of  contiguity  ?  and  illustrate. 

i3  When  we  speak  of  the  crucifixion  of  our  Savior,  what  tlionghte  trs 

suggested  to  our  minds  ? 
Kf  What  when  the  American  Revolution  is  named? 

'JI^  Which  of  the  primary  laws  of  association  is  the  meet  &etcniiTO  Ij 

its  influence  ? 
tS  What  forms  the  basis  of  the  calendar  of  the  mass  o  men? 

27.  Illustrate. 

K    1 16    The  law  of  cause  r^)d  afTect? 


QUESTIONS.  Ife 

Ie9  Show  that  this  is  one  of  the  primary  principles  of  our  mental  *uo 

ciations. 
JC.  Illustrate  the  law. 

31.  Mention  the  incident  related  bj'  Locke. 

38.  Repeat  the  remark  of  Shakspeare. 

CHAPTEIl  VI. 

1  1 57    Repeat  the  four  secondary  laws  of  mental  association. 

I  Show  that  they  are  not  of  minor  importance. 

3  To  what  are  the  primary  and  secondary  laws  compared? 

1  .  ti.  Repeat  the  first  law  of  lapse  of  timo. 

5  Illustrate  this  law. 

^  Vv'hat  apparent  exception  to  this  law  is  mentioned? 

J  What  two  remarks  are  made  on  this  point  1 

I  i  19    Repeat  the  law  of  repetition,  and  illustrate. 

t  What  is  said  of  the  operation  of  this  law  in  particular  arts  and  i>rw 

fessions  ? 
JO.   i50.  Repeat  the  law  of  coexistent  emotion. 
il.  Why  are  bright  objects  more  readily  recalled  than  faint  ones  ? 

12.  Why  are  those  events  in  our  history  that  were  attended  with  greal 

joy  or  sorrow^  longest  remembered  ? 

13.  151.  In  what  respect  are  there  original  differences  in  the  mental  consti- 

tution of  men  ? 

14.  In  what  channel  do  the  associakions  of  the  great  mass  of  maukuwi 

i-un?  and  why? 

15.  What  original  differences  are  often  seen  in  men?     Illustrate. 

16.  Repeat  the  substance  of  what  is  said  of  Newton. 

17.  152.  What  two  classes  of  persons  are  spoken  of  here  as  originally  dif 

ferent  ? 

18.  How  does  Milton  illustrate  the  difference? 

19.  What  other  thing  is  mentioned  as  modifying  our  trains  of  thought  'i 

20.  Recapitulate  the  primary  and  secondary  laws  of  association. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

1.  153.  Why  is  the  subject  of  memory  taken  up  after  that  of  association  ? 

2.  To  what  is  memory  essential? 

3.  '\^''hat  is  memory  ? 

4.  Is  it  a  simple  or  complex  action  of  the  intellectual  principle? 

5.  What  does  it  imply  ? 

C.  What  is  meant  by  this  ? 

7.  Illustrate  the  distinction  between  our  conceptions  and  memory. 

8.  154.  In  what  cases  i?  our  belief  controlled  by  our  i-emembranccs  ? 
H.  How  do  we  kn(  iv  when  to  rely  on  our  memory  ? 

10.  What  would  be  our  condition  without  such  a  reliance  ? 

11.  155.  What  is  remarked  of  the  ability  to  remember? 
12  Relate  several  instances  of  great  memory. 

13.  156.  What  is  circumstantial  memory  ? 

14.  Explain  it  at  large. 

15  \Vhat  kind  of  memory  prevails  among  uneducated  people? 

1€  157.  How  is  this  illustrated  by  Shakspeare  .' 

17.  118,  What  is  philosophic  memory  ? 

18  By  what  is  it  sustained? 

IB  What  is  remarked  of  Montaigne? 

II  1?>9    Under  what  two  forms  does  "every  department  of  science  pf3*g!3l 

itself  to  our  notice? 
21,  Which  form  does  the  circumstantial  memory  rapidly  emhr»C8  T 

29  Cluote  Mr.  Stewart's  remarks  on  this  topic. 

83    ICC    What  is  intentional  recollection? 


Itt  UUE3TIU^^s. 

1J».  B«t 

)i4.  A 10  our  trains  c  f  associated  thought  voluntary? 

S5.  (jiin  we  will  to  remember  any  j)arti(;ular  event? 

2S.  li;  what  does  our  f'hief  powei  i  j  quickening  and  stienglhenlng  tin 

memory  consist? 
2V.  1  S!.  How  do  we  set  about  to  recall  any  circumstances  which  wa  n  !»;ti 

to  remember?     Tvv'o  ways. 
23    )C£    Give  the  illustration  furnished  by  Dr.  Beattie. 
89  How  else  are  these  views  iOustratcd  ? 

SO    125    What  are  the  two  prominent  marks  of  a  good  memory  ! 
11  To  what  is  tenacity  of  memory  compared? 

}3  Do  men  of  philosophic  minds  usually  possess  a  ready  raeniory  I 

J3     lU    The  first  direction  for  improving  the  memory  ? 
a  The  remark  of  Stewart  on  this  point? 

15  The  advantage  of  always  endeavoring  to   understand  wlial    <«e 

study  ? 
M  The  second  direction,  etc.  ? 

37.  Illustrate  the  benefit  of  such  classification. 

38.  The  third  direction  ? 

39.  How  illustrated  ? 

40.  Two  advantages  of  studying  geography  with  maps,  etc.  ? 

41.  Give  another  illustration  of  this  rale  in  the  reading  of  history. 
40.   IG.J.   The  fourth  direction  ? 

43.  Mention  an  instance  of  the  utter  violation  of  this  rule. 

14.  The  fifth  rule  ? 

43.  ICfi.  What  other  help  to  memory  is  here  noticed? 

46.  What  remark  is  made  of  Dr.  Johnson  on  this  point? 

t7.  Show  how  it  is  that  a  strict  regard  to  truth  is  a  help  to  tEemcrv- 

CHAPTER,  VIII, 

I.  1(57.  What  opinion  of  Lord  Bacon  is  here  noticed? 
g.  Why  is  it  of  importance  to  examine  it?  " 

3.  What  question  suggests  itself  here? 

4.  How  is  it  answered  ? 

5.  What  does  our  experience  teach  us  ou  this  point? 
B.  Repeat  the  poetic  quotation. 

7.  11)3.  On  what  does  the  ability  of  tlie  mind  to  restore  its  past  experiencet 

depend  ? 
1^  What  admitted  facts  render  this  probable? 

B.  What  important  views  do  these  facts  confirm  ? 

iO.  What  is  the  proximate  cause  of  the  great  acceleration  of  ths  iriel 

lectual  acts  in  cases  of  drovv'ning  ? 
'    ]6S.  What  fact  is  stated  of  the  influence  of  disease  on  the  mind  ? 
.i.  170.  State  the  facts  related  of  the  American  traveler. 

13.  171.  State  those  related  of  the  young  German  woman. 

14,  Wliat  inferences  did  Coleridge  draw  from  this  instance  ' 
!f.    '172.  What  is  implied  in  the     arm  education  ? 

18  What  is  said  of  the  effect  of  a  single  remark? 

17  What  effect  should  such  a  consideration  have  on  us? 

10  V/l.y  is  it  so  important  to  introduce  tnath  and  right  principles  tite 

tl.e  mind  of  a  child  ? 
Id      7'3    W^hat  other  practical  remark  is  suggested  oy  these  consider  a  tiorj  1 
80  Whjt  objection  has  been  raised  to  the  Scriptu'al  doctrine  of  e  Ui;»' 

judgment  ? 
i'l  W  hat  gives  it  all  its  plausibiUty  ? 

m  Can  the  [lower  of  reminiscence  ever  die? 

<}  Ue[)eat  the  [f)ctry  on  this  subject. 


QUESTIONS.  ll 

CHAPTER  IX. 

%a    !■.(. 

1.  174  Towliat  are  we  indebted  forour  knowledge  of  the  ojerati. us  cf  ihi 

faculty  of  reasoning  ? 

:J  Is  reasoning  identical  with,  or  involved  in,  consciousness  ? 

3.  What  is  it  that  gives  us  a  knowledge  of  our  own  existence? 

4.  What  of  the  operations  of  our  minds  ? 

5.  Wliat  enables  us  to  reason  ? 

C.  For  what  knowledge  are  we  indebted  to  reason  ? 

•y.  What  is  the  office  of  reason? 

8.    1  71  How  is  reasoning  defined  ? 

9  What  are  i>ropositions  ? 

i.'i.  May  a  proposition  exist  in  the  mind  without  being  expressftj  la 

words  / 

11.  What  are  the  parts  of  a  proposition? 

18.  Define  each,  and  illustrate. 

13.  How  have  propositions  been  divided  ? 

14,  Define  each,  and  illustrate. 

55.  To  what  are  propositions  compared  ? 

16.  176    How  many  propositions  are  essential  to  every  process  of  reasoaing  1 

17.  Is  the  arrangement  of  propositions  arbitrary  1 

18.  Are  they  brought  into  existence  by  an  act  of  volition? 

19  By  what  are  they  suggested? 

20  177    Give  an  illustration  of  the  preceding  statement. 

2] .  Illustrate  the  manner  in  which  this  consecution  of  propositions  tekei! 

place. 
2-^.  What  is  all  the  direct  voluntary  power  possessed  in  such  cases? 

'23.   t'3.  State  the  grounds  of  the  selection  of  propositions. 
'ii.  How  does  the  mind  discover  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the 

propositions  presented  to  it  ? 
•25.  In  what  does  the  dilFerence  in  the  various  kinds  of  reasoning  coji- 

sist  ? 
26.  W).  On  what  does  reasoning  necessarily  proceed  ? 
27  Show  that  this  must  be  so. 

28.  Are  the  propositions  assumed  ahvaj's  expressed  ? 

29.  What  are  primary  truths  ? 

30.  180.  What  things  are  assumed  in  reasoning? 

31.  181.  Do  all  persons  possess  the  faculty  of  reasoning  to  the  same  extent! 
J2.  On  what  does  the  difference  depend?     Three  things. 

33.  Why  is  knowledge  necessary  ? 

34.  Why  is  premeditation  essential  to  one  who  would  reason  well  oa 

any  subject  ? 
3.5.  182.  What  is  said  of  the  power  of  habit  in  I'easoning  ?  and  illustrsi;©. 
26.   183.  The  great  instrument  of  reasoning? 
S7  What  is  said  of  persons  who  are  sudden!}'  called  upon  to  state  thsu 

arguments  in  public  debate  ? 
3o  What  is  said  of  Oliver  Cromwell  ? 

3C    184.  Give  another  illustration. 
it  To  what  is  this  perplexity  often  owing  ? 

41  What  are  these  mental  habits  referred  to  ? 

CHAPTER  X. 

\  l£5.  Ill  what  respects  does  demonstrative  reasoning  differ  imm  ?¥BV 

other  species  of  reasoning  ? 
a  What  are  the  ."snb.iects  of  it  ? 

it  What  are  abstract  ideas  ? 

i,  "WHiat  topics  come  under  this  head  ? 

5.  Wliat  are  the  subjects  of  moral  reasoning?  and  illaitiRta. 

S.  3SS    W)  at  is  essentia!  to  every  process  of  reasonmg? 

Z  z  2 


<«  QUESTIONS. 

V£!.  i..>  _  • 

7  What  are  t)io  prehminai-y  truths  in  (lemonstrative  reaMODing ) 

S.  Wontion  certain  general  tacts  in  natural  philosoxjhy  whicii  may  b* 

considered  as  first  piinciples. 
9.  AVliat  are  axioms?  and  illustrate. 

0,  Can  we  complete  a  deitoustration  by  their  assistance  alcD»  1 

U     187    Why  is  it  necessarj-,  in  demonstrations,  to  consider  but  on»  side  o< 

a  question  ?   and  illustrate. 
rJ  How  does  this  ditlcr  from  rubral  reasoning?  and  illupiraie 

^  13    IS3.  Do  demonstrations  admit  of  ditl'ereut  degrees  of  belief? 
H  Show  why  they  can  not. 

13.  What  is  the  case  in  moral  reasoning,  and  why  ? 

V3     '.CO    What  is  the  proper  use  of  diagrams  in  demonstrations? 
(.7  In  what  respect  does  demonstrative  reasoiiug  resemble  eveiy  ctLci 

kind  of  reasoning  ? 
LP  How  does  it  appear  that  diagrams  are  not  essentially  necessiiry  is 

demonstrations  ? 
13.  What  remark  does  Cndwortli  make  on  this  subject? 

'&  Wliat  is  a  definition  ? 

CHAPTER  XL 

,   WO.  The  subjects  of  moral  reasoning  ? 
t.  Show  its  importance. 

3  Does  skill  in  demonstrative  reasoning  make  one  a  good  rea3on«>r  1 

moral  subjects  also  ? 
i.  The  effect  of  demonstrative  reasoning  on  the  mind  ? 

."i.   191.  Point  out  the  resemblance  and  dissimilarity  between  this  and  mni^ 

reasoning. 
t>.  Which  kind  is  attended  with  knowledge  ? 

7.  Are  the  conclusions  from  moral  reasoning  necessarily  doubtful? 

S.  Illustrate. 

l>.  What  is  moral  certainty  ? 

10.  192.  What  do  we  mean  by  analogy? 

11.  What  is  analogical  reasoning? 

12.  Illustrate. 

13.  The  proper  use  of  such  reasoning  7 

14.  193.  What  is  inductive  reasoning? 

15.  Illustrate. 

16.  What  is  said  of  the  belief  which  attends  such  reasoning  7 

17.  The  results  of  such  reasoning? 

18.  194.  What  is  remarked  of  accumulated  arguments  in  demonstrations  ? 

19.  What  in  moral  reasoning  ?  and  the  grounds  of  this  opinion  f 
BO            Illustrate. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

1.  195.  What  is  logic?  and  its  object? 

S.  196.  The  first  direction  in  relation  to  reasoning  ? 

3.  What  is  the  opposite  of  a  desire  of  the  truth  ? 

4  What  are  the  great  enemies  of  truth  ? 

5.  Why  is  this  rule  of  importance  particularly  in  public  deb&U? 

6  167.  The  second  rule? 

7.  In  what  ways  is  this  rule  often  disregarded  ? 

8.  The  practice  of  special  pleaders  ? 
8.  At  what  should  dialecticians  aim  ? 

10.  193.  The  third  rule? 

U.  What  kind  of  evidence  have  we  when  the  inquiry  is  one  of  a  aatal? 

abstract  nature  ? 
12  What  in  the  examination  of  material  bodies  ? 

'H.  In  which  is  the  conclusion  caost  relied  ou? 


aUESTIONS.  1 6 

*"•  **<^*- 

•.i.  In  wliat  casos  do  we  rely  on  testimou;^  / 

;5.  To  what  extent  do  we  rely  on  this  ? 

16.  lu  wliat  cases  have  we  the  evidence  of  ind  ictioi  1 

iJ.  In  wliat  the  evidence  of  analog^'? 

16.  1  jj    What  is  a  sophism  ? 

19  "^Vliat  is  said  of  tliera  ? 

n  Mention  four  species  of  sophism. 

Explain  the  ignoratio  eleuchi,  and  illustrate. 

Explain  and  illustrate  the  petitio  priucipii. 

What  is  argruing  in  a  circle  ? 

Explain  the  uon  causa  pro  causa,  and  illustrate. 

Explain  the  faJlacia  accidentis. 
Ji>t    What  further  direction  is  given? 
ii  What  remark  is  made  of  the  meaning  of  words  Lu  ev(  ry  lariguftj^O 

tS    20i.  What  other  sophism  is  common? 
iS  In  what  does  this  fallacy  consist  ? 

3C  What  is  said  of  Alexander  and  Charles  XII.  ? 

Si  What  of  Caesar  and  Catiline  ? 

3-2    20.1.  What  remark  is  here  made  of  adherence  to  our  opinions  ? 
3'J.  Why  should  we  not  always  give  up  an  opinion  when  objecticns  est 

raised  which  we  can  not  answer? 
34    203.  What  is  said  of  contending  for  victory  instead  of  truth  ? 
•35.  How  is  it  often  done  ? 

3tJ.  What  remark  has  been  made  of  persons  that  addict  themselves  tc 

this  practice  ? 
37.  The  cause  of  such  a  result  ? 

'i8.  What  is  said  of  Chillingvs'orth  ? 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

1.  2fii.  Under  what  general  head  does  imagination  come  ? 

2.  With  what  are  we  apt  to  associate  the  exercises  of  the  imaginstion  ! 

3.  What  is  said  of  one  that  possesses  a  creative  and  wellsustauieo 

imagination  ? 

4.  205.  What  further  remark  is  made  of  the  imagination? 

5.  What  does  D'Alembert  say  of  it  ? 

6.  What  does  ho  say  of  Archimedes  ? 

7.  In  what  threv  respects  do  the  deductive  and  imaginative,  p'^wtn 

resemble  each  other? 

8.  In  what  do  they  difTer  ? 
What  are  the  objects  of  each  ? 
Contrast  the  two. 

*5.  What  is  imagination? 

What  are  the  materials  from  which  new  creations  are  niadn  ^ 
To  what  have  they  been  compared? 

How  is  the  difference  between  the  imagination  of  the  massof  aaan 
kind,  and  of  poets,  painters,  and  orators,  illustrated  ? 
13.  Why  do  we  speak  of  imagination  as  a  complex  opera'.'cn  of  the 

mind  ? 
'■6,  S07,  State  in  full  the  process  of  the  mind  in  the  creations  of  the  waagin 

ation. 
I?.  203.  What  name  do  we  give  to  this  complex  state,  or  series  of  sti-^ne  ol 

the  mind  ? 
18.  Why  is  it  important  to  have  a  single  term  expressive  of  it  " 

!fl,  Is  imagination  an  original  and  independent  faculty  ? 

K  What  is  it,  then  ? 

i)     209    The  illustration  of  Dr.  Reid  ? 
i-2    aiC    What  question  naturally  suggests  itself  here  ? 
25  How  is  it  answered? 

ti  Is  any  voluntary  power  exercised  over  our  conceptions  T 


ar*  auESTvONs. 

25.  211.  lii-.v  was  Milton  enabled  to  fomi  his  happj'  concei'tiui  of  tho  'Jai 

deu  of  Jiideu  ? 
26  Has  bis  conception  ever  been  realized  on  earth? 

27.  212    Wliat  erroneous  opinion  on  this  subject  has  widely  prevailed  ? 

28.  Give  an  illustration. 

2!).  What  practical  application  docs  this  view  admit  of? 

30.  What  is  said  of  Scott  and  Bunyan  ? 

'J\.  213.  How  is  this  subject  illustrated  in  the  case  of  Byron? 

52  Q,uote  the  remark  of  Sir  Joshua  Heynolds. 

i3    ^11.  What  have  some  supposed  respecting  the  utility  of  the  is'i8(.(tl 

ation  ? 
Si  Why  is  this  a  reflection  on  the  Creator? 

iJ  La  whom  has  the  pov/er  of  the  imagination  shown  itself  most  lia 

spicuously  ? 
it  What  is  said  of  them? 

37.  In  what  instances  has  the  imagination  contributed  to  national  gktrj 

and  national  happiness  ? 
i?  Mention  other  benefits  of  it. 

39.  What  has  Addison  said  of  it  ? 

iO.  215,  In  what  important  point  of  view  may  it  be  considered? 
<1.  What  remark  is  made  on  this  ? 

42.  Why  are  many  able  reasoners  so  dull  and  uninteresting  1 

<3.  How  may  reasoning  be  made  interesting  ? 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

1.  216.  Are  the  operations  of  the  mind  alwaj-s  uniform? 
3.  What  occasions  these  deviations  from  fixed  laws 

3.  On  what  does  the  action  of  the  will  depend? 

4.  On  what  the  sensibilities  ? 

6.  The  two-fold  action  of  the  intellect? 

6.  Which  is  first  in  the  order  of  time? 

7.  Which  in  the  order  of  nature  ? 

9.  What  is  essential  to  the  action  of  the  external  intellect  1 

9  The  inference  from  this  fact  J 

10.  alT.  What  subject  does  this  fact  elucidate  ? 

I  A.  What  are  conceptions  ? 

1:!.  What  are  excited  conceptions? 

\\i.  What  are  apparitions  ? 

14.  What  kind  claim  our  especial  attention,  and  why  ? 

LI.  218.  What  two  things  are  to  ije  noticed  in  explanation  of  ihezs 

16.  What  fact  is  stated  of  children  ? 

117.  ~-    Quote  the  remark  of  Cowper. 

18.  That  of  Beattie. 

19.  Illustrate  the  fact  that  excited  conceptions  are  called  i'^*    ;xi«5sq  ts 

by  anxiety  of  mind,  etc. 
2a  Illustrate  the  fact  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Howe. 

VI.  219.  What  is  said  of  excited  conceptions  of  sound?  and  illustrate. 
S-i.  What  incidents  in  the  life  of  Johnson  and  Napoleon  does  this  ex 

plain  ? 
33    2  2C.  What  is  the  first  cause  of  permanent] ,'  vivid  conceptions  or  ap\  a 

ritions  ? 
Si  W'hy  is  this  conjectural  ? 

S5.  What  fact  is  it  necessary  to  keep  in  mind  in  order  tc  undtrstand 

the  ap])licability  of  this  cause 
28.  How  is  this  illustrated? 

27.  How  does  this  case  explain  the  can.sn  of  anparitions  ? 

S9.  How  is  this  explanation  ciintirnied  ? 

h3.  221,    The  second  cause  of  apparitions  ? 
^0.  State  the  case  of  NJcoiai. 


aUESTioxa.  * 

31.  i-^a  How  was  he  relieved  ? 

3a.  a-2y  The  third  cause  of  apparitions  ? 

33.  State  the  case  recorded  in  the  Philosophical  JouitiHl 

J4.  224  The  fourth  cause  of  apparitions  ? 

S5.  What  general  remark  is  made  in  confirmation  of  this  cause  1 

38.  "Vhat  proportion  of  the  blood  is  sent  immediately  from  ths  beaa 
into  the  brain  ? 

37.  la  what  way  does  nitrous  oxide  affect  the  brain? 

38.  \^  \iat  opinion  do  these  facts  seem  to  <,onfirm? 

39.  By  what  fact  is  it  controverted  ? 

♦0.  225.  Stat 3  the  fact  related  iu  illustration  of  the  fjurth  cei«e  cf -fpwrt 

ticns. 
<1.  226    The  f  t'tb  cause  of  apparitions  ? 
43.  Whal  /    said  of  hysteria  ? 

CHAPTER  XV. 

1.  S?7.  Meaning  .-^f  the  term  insanity? 

3.  What  do  we  usually  understand  by  it  ? 

3.  What  is  partial,  and  what  is  total  insanity  ? 

♦.  228.  What  is  remarked  of  disordered  sensations? 

5.  State  a  case  of  a  disordered  sensation  of  touch. 

5.  The  case  of  Mendelsohn? 

7.  229.  The  distinction  between  sensation  and  perception  \ 

6.  When  are  our  perieptioi.s  likely  to  be  disordered  ? 
9.  State  facts  on  this  subject. 

10.  230.  What  conviction  is  essential  to  a  sound  mind? 

11.  Wiiat  tact  is  related  of  the  llev.  S.  Browne? 

12.  231.  What  produces  insauitj.' of  consciousness  ? 

13.  State  the  case  of  the  watchmaker. 

14.  232.  Is  original  suggestion  or  ralative  more  frequently  disordered  1 

15.  \Vhy"is  the  latter  so  frequently  so  ? 

16.  233.  What  is  lig'-l-headedness  ? 

17.  The  chara'    yristics  of  the  lijtt-headed  ? 
IS.  23-1.  State  the  cose  of  Lavater. 

19.  235.  What  is  said  of  disordered  mcir'~.  y? 

20.  The  three  kinds  of  it? 

21.  Illustrations  of  the  second  kind? 

22.  Illustrations  of  the  third  ?  _  ^ 

23.  236.  When  is  the  inability  to  reason  t&ii"  ? 
84.  Is  this  usually  the  case? 

25.  The  most  common  form  of  alienated  jerSDn  ?  and  illustrate. 

36.  237.  Describe  the  case  of  Don  ftuixote. 

27.  238.  How  do  men  of  sensibility  sometimes  bcLcne  mentally  disoraere»3  ' 

28.  The  case  of  Rousseau  ? 

S3.  339.  Three  kinds  of  insanity,  or  alienation  of  ths  pcwer  ifVc'ief  ? 

;0.  What  is  remarked  of  tliu  first  kind  when  *h=i  m-J  ^^  ?■  V  b&U»Tf  » 

great? 
il .  Willi  of  the  eet  on  1  ? 


QUESTIONS. 


DIVISION   XL 

INTRODUCTION. 

^i»  a»-t 

*.  SiO.  How  has  the  mind  been  divided  7 
8  Are  these  divisions  strongly  marked  ? 

S  In  what  do  they  differ? 

5  How  is  it  ascertained  that  they  difiFer  iu  their  nature  T 

S.  Which  comes  first  in  order  ? 

^  241.  What  is  essential  to  the  action  of  the  sensibilities  ? 

7.  How  is  this  shown  ? 

8.  If  our  intellectual  powers  were  dormant,  what  would  be  the  e;H&-j 

on  the  sensibilities  ? 
D,  To  what  is  the  activity  of  the  sensibilities  proportioned  ? 

10.  242.  How  are  the  sensibilities  divided? 

P.  By  whom  was  the  term  pathematic  introduced? 

\2  To  what  state  of  mind  is  it  applicable  ? 

l.J  243.  What  diflerent  views  do  the  natural  and  moral  sensibilities  appeai 
to  take  of  the  objects  in  respect  to  which  they  are  called  iut(  ex- 
ercise ? 

14.  What  would  be  the  effect  of  obliterating  from  man's  constitutioi  h;i 

conscience  ? 

15.  In  this  case,  by  what  would  his  movements  be  dictated  ? 

16.  What  would  be  the  center  around  which  his  motives  of  actioi; 

would  revolve  ? 

17.  What  teaches  him  to  act  with  reference  to  the  glory  of  God  ? 

18.  244.  Which  division  of  the  sensibilities  occupy  the  higher  rank? 

19.  Which  are  higher  in  our  estimation,  the  instincts  or  the  appetites  'f 

20.  The  appetites  or  the  affections  ? 

21.  What  other  remark  is  made  of  our  moral  sensibilities  ? 

22.  245.  Do  brutes  possess  moral  sensibilities  ? 

23.  What  do  they  possess  in  common  with  man  ? 

24.  What,  then,  is  the  ground  of  distinction  between  men  and  brutbS  1 
2.'i.  246.  How  are  the  natural  sensibilities  divided  ? 

id  Which  come  first  in  the  order  of  time  and  nature,  the  emotioiu  oi 

the  desires  ? 
27.  How  is  this  fact  otherwise  stated? 

S8.  Show  that  this  fact  is  necessarily  so. 

S3.  847    How  are  the  moral  sensibilities  divided? 
W.  To  what  do  the  obligatoiy  feelings  correspond  ? 


PART    I.— CLASS    I. 

CH AFTER  I. 

.,.  S18    Why  can  not  a  verbal  explanation  be  given  of  the  em.  tione  ? 
i.  Why  can  not  any  thing  simple  be  defined? 

i  How  do  we  learn  the  nature  of  the  emotions  ? 

C    VIj.  The  place  of  the  emotions  ccuisideied  with  reference  to  uthei  raea 
tal  acts  ? 


Ija    Sucl 

5,  Wliat  i«  said  of  the  desires  ? 

8.  What  do  we  mean  when  we  speak  of  any  thing  as  pieasaut  to  qi  I 

7.  What  is  essential  to  a  feeling  of  moral  obligation? 

8.  On  what  are  our  desires  founded  1 
S,  On  what  our  emotions  ? 

10.  2'jO    By  what  are  our  desires  followed  ? 

11.  By  what  our  oblia:atory  feelings  ? 

12  How  is  it  shown  that  our  emotions  are  founded  on  our  intellectioc*  I 

13  Illustrate. 

14  251.  By  what  are  emotions  characterized? 
X5  To  what  are  they  compared  ? 

lf>.  How  do  they  diifer  from  the  desires  and  feelings  of  moral  oliig* 

tion  ? 
17.  What  are  some  of  the  varieties  of  our  emotions? 

)e.  Why  is  it  essential  to  -anderstand  the  distinctions  that  exist  in  tht 

sensibilities  ? 

CHAPTER  II. 

«.  252.  The  two  characteristics  of  the  emotion  of  beauty? 

5.  UZ>3.  What  objects  do  we  call  beautiful? 

3.  What  do  we  mean,  then,  when  we  say  an  object  has  beauty '! 

*.  254.  How  are  beautiful  objects  distinguished  from  other  objects  ? 
a.  Why  does  the  mind  experience  a  pleasant  emotion  in  view  <if  ce? 

tain  objects  ? 

6.  2o5.  How  may  the  tenn  beauty  be  regarded?  and  why? 

7.  What  are  some  of  the  occasions  of  the  emotions  of  beauty  ? 

8.  What  is  remarked  of  the  human  countenance  ? 

9.  What  does  a  mathematician  regard  as  beautiful?  a  logician  ? 

10.  Wliat,  then,  is  the  province  of  beauty  ? 

11.  256.  Are  all  objects  equally  fitted  to  cau9«  the  emotion  of  beauty  ? 

12.  What  important  inquiry  does  this  suggest  ? 

13.  257.  What  must  be  taken  for  granted  in  answering  this  question  ? 
U.  How  do  we  know  that  we  have  a  susceptibility  to  beauty  ? 

15  Have  tlie  emotions  of  beauty  fixed  causes  or  antecedents? 

16  Can  the  antecedeiits  exist  and  not  be  followed  by  these  emotfriioa  I 

17.  What  is  meant  by  the  esthetic  power  of  objects? 

18.  2t>8.  What  figure  is  universally  regarded  as  beautiful  ? 
»9.  NVhat  was  Hogarth's  line  of  beauty? 

JO.  Ill  what  natural  objects  do  we  find  this  line? 

ti.  25b.  What  two  kinds  of  beauty  are  mentioned  here? 

S3.  What  is  intrinsic  beauty  ? 

23.  Mention  some  objects  that  possess  it. 

31.  ceo.  What  other  forms  have  beauty  ? 

U5.  Quote  the  remark  of  Mr.  Alison. 

26    CCl.  What  is  said  of  the  square? 

B7  What  other  forms  of  beauty  are  mentioned,  and  what  ii  s<«id  at 

them  ? 
89  What  does  Mr.  Alison  say  of  the  tripod? 

^  What  explanatoi-y  remark  is  made  in  connection  with  the  foiegown 

statements,  and  how  is  it  illustrated  ? 

30.  2C2.  What  is  said  of  the  beauty  of  colors  ? 

31.  By  wliat  considerations  is  this  opinion  supported  ? 
S2.  What  is  remarked  of  infants? 

33.  What  of  savages  ? 

34.  What  of  the  uneducated  ? 

35.  Who  are  most  pleased  with  gaudy  colors  ? 

30.   863.  What  adflitioual  proof  is  given  of  the  fact  that  colors  are  of  tfcea 

n  .  ves  fitted  to  cause  oraotions  of  bcaut>'  ? 
!i7  V  ',    i  facts  aro  mentioned  of  the  early  life  of  .lames  Mitel  >\\  ' 


«"• 

Si-^-t. 

38. 

'."J*. 

39. 

to. 

41. 

i?.. 

265 

il. 

i4 

15. 

4u. 

47. 

40, 

J'J. 

•iOo. 

50. 

51. 

9f.7. 

52. 

53. 

268 

54. 

.■55 

.■16. 

'SiO. 

57. 

58. 

59. 

Zt  QUESTIONS. 

When  are  soui^ls  termed  beautiful'? 

What  sounds  are  disapi'eeable  ? 

What  are  entirely  indifferent  ? 

Q.uote  Mr.  Alison's  remai'ks. 

How  are  musical  soiuids  characterized  ? 

Are  they  intrinsically  beautiful,  or  so  from  a»«cxifttici  only  T 

The  first  consideration  that  goes  to  prove  this  ? 

What  is  said  of  brutes  In  this  connection  ? 

The  second  consideration  to  prove  that  there  is  an  l-»trtc«i?  tcii'-Sj 

in  musical  sounds  ? 
The  thiid  consideration,  etc.  ? 
VVhat  fact  is  related  of  a  Jesuit  missionary? 
The  fourth  consideration  ? 

What  is  said  of  Caspar  Hauser  in  this  comiection  ? 
On  what  does  the  pemianency  of  musical  power  depend  7 
What  does  this  prove  ? 

What  other  element  of  beauty  is  mentioned? 
What  motions  are  pleasing  ? 

What  remarks  are  made  of  ascending  columns  of  smoke  f 
What  kinds  of  motion  are  agreeable  ? 
Why  is  long-continued  swift  motion  disagreeable  7 
Why  very  slow  motion  ? 
What  kinds  of  motion  are  the  most  agreeable  7 

CHAPTER  III. 

i.  270.  What  two  positions  on  the  subject  of  beauty  are  laid  down  is  tXM 
section  ? 

2.  The  remark  of  Stewart  on  this  subject  7 

3.  Can  association  originate  or  create  any  tiling  7 
i.  To  what  is  it  compared  ? 

5.  271.  Is  it  possible  for   an  object  to  become  beaatifui  by  aseocietjn* 

merely  ? 

6.  lUusti-ate. 

7.  272.  What  gives  the  country  half  its  charms  ? 

8.  What  invests  with  beauty  the  liock  of  Plymouth  ? 

9.  Repeat  the  poetry  of  Rogers. 

"0.  273.  Mention  several  instances  of  national  associations. 
1  L  Mention  several  in  colors. 

12.  What  is  often  the  efi'ect  on  the  countenance  of  a  single  crime? 

13.  274.  Witli  what  are  the  sources  of  associated  beauty  coincident  7 

14.  375.  Give  a  summary  of  what  has  been  said  on  this  subject.     l8t,  2d  M 

4  th,  5th. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

I    "i76.  What  is  re.njarked  of  emotions  of  sublimity  7 

Illustrate  the  progression  from  the  gentle  to  tlie  nbllsie. 

In  what  respect  do   emotions  of  sublimity  differ  (.cn.   SU£»»  s 

be&uty  ? 
Why  are  they  undefinable? 
How  do  we,  then,  obtain  a  knowledge  of  them  7 
How  do  we  measure  the  sublimity  of  an  object  7 
What  is  the  first  source  of  sublimity  mentioned  7 
G.uote  the  remarks  of  Stewart  and  of  Warhington  irrift^ 
Mention  another  source  of  sublimit/. 
Illustrate. 

Mention  a  third  sout'".^. 
ttuote  Burke's  remark, 
A  fourth  source  ?  and  illastratis 


9. 

3. 

i 

in. 

5. 

S. 

7. 

•21  & 

6 

i' 

CO 

10. 

li. 

"280. 

f.'ji 

P 

"iSl 

auEsrro.vs. 


iS5 


ita    S^L 

]*.  Give  the  Scripture  quotation. 

15.  282.  A  lil'lli  source  ?  ami  illustrate. 

16.  Tlie  remark  of  Coleriili,'e  ? 

17.  '-.'83.  A  sixth  source  ?  and  illusti'ate. 

18.  28-1.   A  seventh  source  ?  and  illustrate-. 

19.  Is  the  emoticn  in  tliese  instances  t/i  be  ascribed  to  one  ciate  <sniy  1 

20.  28.1.  How  does  it  appear  that  these  are  objects  originally  sublime  1 

21.  286.  How  is  this  proved  ? 

22.  How  illusti-ated  in  the  case  of  Sir  William  Jcnes  ? 
£3    ^87.  To  what  is  a  share  of  the  emotion  to  be  attributed  T 
1 1  How  is  this  shown  7 

CHAPTER  V. 

'.  '£39.  What  is  said  of  the  emotions  of  the  ludicroais 'f 

2.  What  modifies  the  pleasure  we  experience  from  thciu  ? 

3    28£    The  origin  of  the  feeling  ? 

4.  Does  the  discovery  of  new  relations  in  evnn-  case  give  rise  £o  itf 

5.  Mention  several  instances  in  which  it  doua  i   a. 

6.  What  else  is  necessaiy  to  the  production  of  ciiese  emotion*  T 

7.  230.  With  what  are  they  closely  allied  ? 

8.  In  what  does  wit  consist  ? 

9.  291.  The  first  method  which  wit  employs  in  exciting  eraotioM  of  the  li 

dicrous  ? 

10.  Wliat  are  such  descriptions  termed? 

11.  Is  it  morally  right  to  attempt  to  burlesque  what  is  truly  great  T 

12.  Repeat  the  examples  from  Hudibras. 

13.  292.  The  second  method  which  wit  employs  to  excite  emotions  of  fchi  te 

dicrous  ? 

14.  What  is  it  termed  7 

15.  How  does  it  dilFer  from  the  fomier  kind? 

16.  Repeat  the  example. 

17.  What  are  included  in  this  division  of  wit? 

18.  Repeat  an  example  of  this  kind  ? 

19.  293.  What  subject  closely  borders  on  wit? 

80.  Illustrate  what  you  mean  by  humor  and  the  humorpvui. 

21.  Are  such  feelings  useless  ? 

22.  The  reasons  for  such  an  opinion? 

23.  294.  Is  ridicule  the  proper  weapon  to  use  against  vice  7 

24.  In  what  cases  is  it  allow^able  ? 

35.  Wliat  writers  have  treated  of  tliis  subject  in  folif 

CHAPTER  VI, 

",  *35.  What  is  cheerfuhiess  ? 

i.  What  are  joy  and  delight  ? 

».  What  is  gladness  ? 

i.  2S6.  The  opposite  of  these  emotions  ? 

•.  The  distinction  between  melancholy  an'l  ttortwr 

i.  The  distinction  between  grief  and  sorrow  T 

r.  How  do  grief  and  sorrow  Bhow  thcmselvoa  ? 

?,  237.  What  is  surprise  ? 

t.  What  is  astonishment? 

.3.  What  is  wonder  7 

II.  The  utility  of  this  emotion? 

19.  Show  in  what  manner  it  is  uaeful. 

13,  238.  What  is  dissatisfaction? 

14.  How  does  it  differ  from  displcBBiii'o? 
»6.  How  from  disgust  T 

M.  V99.  What  is  diffidence? 

A  A  A 


SJU  aUESTIONS, 

17,  Il,)w  d\jcs  it  differ  from  modeety  t 

la  Its  utility? 

19.  What  is  slianie? 

30.  How  characterized  ? 

SI  By  what  is  it  cjcasioned  7 

23,  300.  Ttie  foundation  of  the  respect  we  pay  to  the  trass  oi  EuanUndl 

83  What  is  reverence  ? 

it.  What  is  f.doration  ? 

85-  Hensv^vS  'ate  the  emotious  that  have  been  touched  apoo. 


PART    I.— CLASS    11. 

CHAPTER  I. 

i.  30i  Of  what  two  kinds  of  sensibilities  docs  the  autiior  treat  ? 

2.  How  are  the  natural  sensibilities  divided  ? 

3.  What  is  said  of  desire  ? 

4.  What  is  essential  to  every  appetite,  propeu-sity,  and  affoctioB  ? 

5.  302    Why  can  we  not  defuie  tlie  desires  ? 

6.  How,  then,  do  we  obtain  a  kuov/leds^e  of  them? 

7.  303    Why  is  it  important  to  obtain  a  definite  idea  of  the  plaets  of  ^ 

sires  ? 

8.  Do  desires  follow  intellections  immediately  or  not? 

9.  How  is  this  shovrn  ? 

.0.  The  proximate  and  c.iusative  occasion  of  desires  ? 

1 1.  What  fact  is  mentioned  in  illustration  of  what  has  been  esid? 

12.  What  tixed  law  of  the  mind  is  stated  1 

13.  301.  Which  are  the  more  permanent  emotions  or  desires? 

14.  To  what  are  our  emotions  compai-ed  ? 

15.  What  illustration  is  given  of  tlie  strength  and  permaneac.j'  ot  df. 

sires  ? 

16.  305.  Wliat  additional  characteristic  of  desires  is  mentioned? 

17.  From  what  do  they  ditfer  in  this  respect? 

18.  In  what  do  our  emotious  terminate  ?  ■ 

19.  In  what  our  desires? 

20.  Give  a  reason  for  their  fixedness,  and  illustrato. 

21.  306.  Are  our  desires  pleasant  or  painful? 

22.  What  other  characteristic  circumstance  distinguishes  th^^ai  ftta 

other  mental  states  ? 

23.  With  what  does  the  enjoyment  vai"y? 

24.  307.  Are  all  our  desires  equally  strong? 
35.  On  what  does  their  sti-ength  depend  ? 

26  On  what  does  the  strength  of  our  emotior\6  ('e"irnd  ? 

27,  308.  What  otlier  characteristic  attribute  of  cm-  desiree  is  BEesjctf«i;f»i  ? 

38.  What  does  Hobbes  term  desire  ? 

i'd  Does  it  always  terminate  in  action? 

30.  What  is  necessaiy  to  this  ? 

31.  Does  the  tendency  exist  if  action  does  not  follow  d»«4'^' 
38.  Does  this  tendency  exist  in  other  departments  of  the  TSfW 
83,  What  would  man  be  with  intellect  alone? 

34.  What  with  emotive  sensibilities  alone  ? 

35.  How  illusti-ated  ? 

36  In  what  exists  the  tendency  to  excite  movimeBt? 

37.  The  office  of  the  will  ? 

38.  309.  How  ai'o  the  desires  modified? 

39.  How  classilicd  ? 


auiiSTJONS.  iiT 

«0.  3I0.  What  twofold  action  have  all  these  piinciples,  instincts  exc«i.tei1 

41.  Why  are  instincts  excepted  ? 

li  Why  is  it  important  to  notice  this  two-fold  action  t 

CHAPTER  II. 

I.  31L  What  are  instincts  ? 

t.  What  is  implied  in  the  terra  instinctive  ? 

3.  Are  the  instinctive  tendencies  of  men  or  of  brutes  tlie  moet  frequMil 

and  effective  ? 
I.  Why  should  they  be  ? 

5.  The  proof  that  the  instinct  of  the  lower  animals  is  strikingly  adapt 

ed  to  the  exigences  of  their  situation? 
I   SiS   Mention  a  striking  fact  illustrative  of  the  nature  of  the  inetinctiv 
'  principle. 

'.  Mention  a  remarkable  fact  in  relation  to  bees, 

ti.  Can  you  prove  that  this  is  instinct? 

9    3:3    The  first  instance  of  instinct  in  man  ? 

10.  The  second? 

11.  The  third?  and  illustrate. 
;2.  31  i.  The  fourth  ?  ar.d  illustrate. 

13.  The  fifth  ?  and  illustrate. 

14.  315.  The  design  of  our  instincts  ? 

1 5  What  power  predominates  in  man,  and  what  in  brutes  ? 

CHAPTER  III. 

1.  316.  The  prominent  appetites? 

2.  How  do  they  differ  from  instincts  ? 

3.  Their  three  characteristics  ? 

4.  317.  The  use  of  the  appetites  ? 

5.  Illustrate. 

6.  What  is  said  of  the  lower  animals  in  this  respect? 

7.  Why  can  not  our  appetites  be  called  selfish? 

8.  Are  they  ever  strong  enough  to  enslave  us? 

9.  What  is  remarked  of  one  so  enslaved 
10.  319.  Give  an  instance  of  an  acquired  appetite. 
U.  Explain  the  origin  of  such  appetites. 

12.  The  only  way  to  avoid  the  forming  of  such  habits  ? 

•3.  319.  Explain  the  instinctive  and  the  voluntary  operation  of  the  appsii4c4 
,1  The  basis  of  the  morality  of  the  appetites  ? 

5.  In  what  do  virtue  and  vice  consist,  considered  in  relation  to  the  &p 

petites  ? 

CHAPTER  IV. 
1.  330.  In  what  respect  do  the  propensities  differ  from  the  mstlacts  f 
a.  And  from  the  appetites  ?  _ 

3.  Enumerate  the  propensities. 

4.  On  what  are  they  all  founded  ?  .      ■  ^  ^^ 

5.  321.  How  is  it  shown  that  the  desire  of  self-preservation  la  aaa  oJ  (XJ 

propensities  ? 
8.  What  is  sometimes  stronger  than  this  ? 

1,  Can  it  ever  be  extinguished  ? 

8.  322.  Its  two-fold  operation  ?  and  illustrate. 

8.333    Show  that  curiosity  is  one  of  our  propensities.  .     .      r  a 

18,  What  class  of  works  depends  almost  wholly  on  cunosity  lor  reft* 

ers  ? 
It    b24   What  is  said  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  with  reference  to  this  propen» 
ity? 


2W  aUESTIONSj 

du.  Swl 

12.  How  was  this  bIiowii  in  James  Milche^ 

IJ.  llejicat  the  pouti^y  on  this  subject. 

14.  325.  Illustrate  its  two-t'uld  operation. 

15.  Hiiw  may  it  be  stimulated  or  restrained  ? 

16.  When  is  it  virtuous,  and  when  vicious  ? 

17.  Illustrate  with  reference  to  the  astronomer. 

18.  326.  Shovv^  that  the  propensity  to  imitation  is  natura.. 

19.  How  do  children  acquire  the  use  of  oral  language? 

20.  In  what  various  ways  do  they  manifest  this  propeiisttf 
ei    327.  Is  this  principle  one  of  utility  ? 

82.  Show  how;. 

23.  What  practical  inference  may  we  deduce  from  this  7 

54.  328  Show  that  the  desire  of  esteem  is  natural  to  man. 

55,  Siiow  that  it  is  not  confined  to  children.  . 
28  Show  that  it  is  not  founded  on  personal  and  interested  uo£ai<}ais 

tions. 

27.  Show  that  it  operates  strongly  with  reference  to  the  future. 

28    329.  Show  that  it  is  favorable  to  human  happiness,  and  illustrate. 

29.  Sylla's  remark  of  Julius  Caesar? 

30.  By  what  is  this  desire  checked  ? 

31.  330.  Show  that  children  very  eai'ly  foiTn  a  notion  of  Uie  relation  of  DC* 

session. 

32.  331.  On  wrhat  does  the  morality  of  this  desire  depend? 

33.  When  is  it  morally  right,  and  when  wrong  ? 

34.  What  is  remarked  on  the  duty  of  this  desire  ? 

35.  By  what  Scripture  is  it  enforced  ? 

36.  ?32.  What  is  said  of  its  ordinary  action  ? 

37.  Why  is  it  usually  inordinately  sti'ong? 

38.  What  is  covetousness  ? 

39.  What  is  avarice? 
4U.  333.  What  is  power? 
41.  How  is  this  shown? 

4'-'.  How  is  it  shown  that  the  desire  of  power  la  natural  to  th«  taiad  t 

and  illustrate. 
tl.  334.  In  what  cases  is  its  exercise  virtuous,  and  iu  what  vicioB*i 

*4.  What  is  ambition  ? 

45.  \t65.  To  what  actions  does  the  desire  of  happiness  lead  us  7 

46.  336.  What  is  this  desire  called  ? 

47.  How  is  it  distinguished  from  selfishness? 

48.  337.  Repeat  Wardlaw's  remark  on  self-love. 

49.  How  do  the  Scriptures  appeal  to  self-love  ? 

W,  338.  Of  what  propensity  has  our  desire  for  society  biicn  sc  Daeluoee  n< 

garded  as  a  modification? 

IJl.  Show  that  it  is  not  so. 

52.  How  may  this  principle  be  pp'-veited  7 

53.  339.  The  fii-st  evidence  of  the  existence  of  this  principle  I 

54.  The  second  evidence  of  its  existence  ? 
^5    310.  How  is  the  strength  of  it  shown? 

ft6.  Give  two  other  illusti-ations  of  it. 

67.  341.  What  strange  notion  of  Hobbes  is  noticed  ? 

59.  On  what  is  civil  society  founded  ? 

19  Repeat  the  quotation  from  Cowper. 

CHAPTER  V. 

I.  312.  Hjw  are  the  affections  distinguished  from  the  (the!  forms  oS  oa 

propensive  nature  ? 
3.  The  relative  ranks  of  our  sensibilities  ? 

3    3t3    Hiiw  do  the  allbctions  differ  from  the  appetites  ai.d  pnipciiEitioi  7 

•.  VVUat  does  the  term  all'cctior.  dcaute  ' 


«&  Sort. 

5  How  aie  the  affections  divided  t 

6.  How  are  these  two  classes  uistijigui»Iied  T 

7.  What  tenuis  used  as  synonymous  wth  affection  T 
B.  344.  What  is  ani^er? 

9.  What  moditications  of  it  are  mentioned? 

iO.  345   By  what  is  anger  occasioned  ? 

1 1.  Show  that  it  is  instinctive,  and  iliastrate. 

12.  34e.  The  design  of  the  Creator  in  implanting  this  priacipk  in  manT 

13.  is  instinctive  resentment  riiOrally  wrong? 
i4.  The  basis  of  morality  ? 

15.  347.  How  may  we  impait  to  ir^tijcrive  resentment  the  rhsractcr  oi  ttk 

countability  ? 
IF,  Tlie  proper  occasion  of  rocentment  ? 

17  What  is  injui-y  ? 

18  The  final  cause  of  instinctive  resentment? 

19  The  iinal  cause  d^  voluntary  resentment  ? 
SSO.  How  does  it  dispense  its  retribution  ? 

21.  When  is  resentuidnt  right,  and  when  wron;^  ? 

2'2.  218.  One  of  the  chief  causes  of  excessive  resejtnwc'.  7 

23.  The  three  checks  to  it  ? 

24.  What  is  remarked  of  the  pain  it  occasions  ? 

25.  What  of  its  outward  signs  ? 

2S.  349.  The  fii-st  consideration  calculated  to  '.-hfck  It" 

27.  The  second  ? 

28.  The  third  ? 

29.  The  foui-tli  ? 

30.  In  wliat  is  the  Christian  code  aistinguishbd  iroBX  Cvoiy  3t!ba  1 

31.  350.  How  does  peevishness  differ  from  au^'e'.  ? 

32.  To  what  are  both  compared  .' 

33.  351.  What  is  envy,  and  what  is  remarked  of  it? 

34.  How  is  it  accounted  for? 

35.  352.  What  is  jealousy  ? 

36.  How  is  it  characterized  ? 

37.  To  what  is  its  strength  propoitioned  ? 

38.  In  whom  is  it  most  frequently  found  ? 

39.  What  is  remarked  of  it  ? 

40.  353.  What  is  revenge  ? 

41.  How  does  it  differ  from  resettment? 

42.  Is  it  ever  right  ? 

43.  354.  How  is  fear  occasioned  ? 

44.  Why  ranked  among  the  malevolent  affectiona  ? 

45.  To  what  is  its  strength  proportioned? 

46.  What  is  said  of  it  when  extreme  ? 

47.  Tlie  danger  of  frightening  others  ? 

16.  What  is  despair? 

CHAPTER  VI. 

1.  355.  The  basis  of  the  malevolent  affections? 
9.  The  basis  of  tiie  benevolent  ones  ? 

3.  What  is  implied  in  the  affection  love  ? 

4.  What  ai-e  some  of  its  modifications? 

5.  What  are  some  of  the  different  kinds  of  it? 

6.  S53.  The  tvpofold  action  by  which  it  is  characterisad  I 

7.  Is  parental  ailection  voluntary  or  implanted  ? 

8.  The  fii'st  com  ideration  Lt  support  of  this  view  7 

9.  The  second  ? 
iO.  The  tliird  ? 

1 1  The  fourth  ? 

2    357.  The  fifth? 

A  A  A  2 


so  auESTiors. 

t)u.  Scot. 

13.  358.  Mention  a  fact  illustrative  of  this. 

H.  309.  How  does  filial  aflection  ditlbr  from  parental? 

13.  Show  the  wisdom  of  the  Creator  in  tliis. 

/6.  360.  The  first  proof  that  filial  allbction  is  implanted  ? 

17.  Illustrate  this  remarK. 

Id.  The  second  proof  of  this  fact? 

19.  The  penalty  which  nature  has  attached  to  a  want  of  fl  ial  affectiont 

20  What  other  considerations  miyht  be  adduced  in  eviden  ce  of  the  asm* 

fact? 

21  161.  An  illustration  of  filial  affection. 
-1  An  illustration  of  parental  love. 

83    162  How  has  fraternal  aflection  been  accounted  for? 

8  I  What  one  fact  shows  that  this  explanation  is  an  insufficient  ono7 

ii    153  Show  the  wisdom  of  the  Creator  as  manifested  in  the  domestic  ti 

fections. 

iS  What  strange  notion  of  Plato  is  mentioned? 

27.  Show  that  the  reverse  is  the  fact. 

2£  364.  Do  these  affections  possess  a  moral  character? 

2C,  The  common  opinion,  and  the  reasons  for  it  ? 

30.  Show  the  error  of  it,  and  illustrate. 

31.  365    When  are  these  affections  vicious,  and  when  virtuous? 

32.  366.  What  is  essential  to  the  highest  and  most  ennobling  form  of  bena» 

olence  ? 

33.  In  what  cases  is  it  wrong  to  indulge  a  benevolent  feeling  toward 

an  individual  ? 

S4.  Give  an  account  of  Bishop  Bartholomew  las  Casas. 

35  How  did  his  benevolence  defeat  its  own  intention  ? 

36.  367.  Is  man  by  nature  indifferent  to  the  welfare  of  others? 

37  Is  he  naturally  an  enemy  to  his  brother  man  ? 

33.  What  is  philanthropy  ? 

33.  What  principle  checks  its  exercise? 

40.  How  is  it  shown  to  be  natural  ? 

41.  Illustrate. 

42.  368.  A  second  argument  in  favor  of  this  truth  ? 

43.  How  illustrated  ? 

44.  Nan-ative  of  Mungo  Park? 

45.  369.  A  third  proof  of  this  fact? 

46.  Are  such  institutions  confined  to  Christian  coantrles  1 

47.  Mention  other  facts  illustrative  of  this  truth. 

48.  370.  A  fourth  proof  of  this  fact? 
43.  Illustrate. 

50.  371.  What  is  patriotism? 

51.  The  manifest  intention  of  nature  on  this  subject? 

52.  Is  patriotism  a  secondary  or  an  original  atlection  . 

53.  Sliow  that  there  is  no  contrariety  between  patriotism  awi  pkiluii 

thropy. 

54.  Repeat  the  remark  of  Cowper. 

55.  373    Of  what  is  friendship  a  modification? 

5tJ  How  does  it  resemble  the  other  benevolent  affections  ? 

57.  Is  similarity  of  character  requisite  as  the  basis  of  frieudehip  T 

53,  What  is  essential? 

39    373.  How  does  pity  differ  from  the  other  benevolent  affections  T 

SO  Sentiment  of  Bishop  Butler  on  this  subject? 

81  The  office  of  pity  ? 

63    3?4  Is  this  affection  instinctive  or  voluntary? 

63  The  great  advantage  of  its  being  so? 

64.  When  is  its  exercise  right,  and  vice  versa  7  and  illustrate. 

85  Why  do  we  judge  favorably  of  the  pitiful? 

SC.  375  How  is  gratitudedistinguisliod  fro  ii  the  other  benevolent  affections! 

•7.  What  is  essentJal  to  i*  ' 


QUESTIONS  8 

CHAPTER  VII. 

1.  319.  Wtat  principle  dots  the  author  suppose  was  iiriyinally  lmpl&r.te4 

in  man  ? 

2.  The  first  argTiment  in  favor  of  this  ? 

3.  377.  Tlie  second  argument,  drawn  from  the  Scriptures  ? 

4.  What  is  meant  by  man's  being  created  in  the  image  of  God  ?  aci 

the  argument  from  this  'I 

5.  378,  The  third  argument  from  texts  of  Scripture? 
t  The  fourth  argument  from  the  new  birth  ? 

7    375,  Wliat  fact  is  taught  us  bj'  both  philosophy  and  revelation  7 
a.  What  facts  prove  that  man  is  a  fallen  being? 

9  V/hat  principle  slwuld  stand  first  in  rank  of  those  by  which  nJM  if 

governed  ? 

10.  How  would  this  regulate  all  the  others  ? 

11.  SeO.  How  is  human  depravity  accounted  for? 

12.  381    How  is  this  illustrated  ? 

13  Show  how  the  obliteration  of  the  principle  of  love  to  God  would  Uad 

to  the  enslaving  of  man  to  his  appetites  and  passions 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

!.  382,  What  simple  fact  does  the  term  habit  express  ? 

2.  383,  What  are  appetitive  habits? 

3.  How  are  such  habits  acquired? 

4    364.  What  are  propensive  habits?  and  illustrate. 

5.  385.  To  what  other  ati'ections  does  it  apply?  and  illustrate 

6.  386.  What  are  secondary  principles  of  action  ? 
»  Their  origin  ?  and  illustrate. 


P  A  U  T    II. 

CHAPTER  I. 

1.  387.  How  has  the  mir^  'con  divided? 
8.  The  place  of  the  en70tions  ? 

3.  Through  what  dcpaitments  must  wo  pass  to  arrive  at  the  will  from 

the  emotions  ? 

4.  Prove  from  Scripture  the  existence  of  conscience. 

5.  388.  Into  what  do  the  natural  sensibilities  resolve  themselves  ? 
8.  Into  what  the  moral? 

7.  Why  might  it  be  supposed  this  subject  would  be  dispatch&d  is  t 

few  words  ? 

8.  Why  is  it  not  ? 

9.  383.  How  does  the  moral  nature  develop  itself? 

10.  How  many  kinds  of  moral  emotions  are  there  ? 

[1.  By  what  names  are  thoy  known? 

12.  What  is  implied  in  calling  them  original  feelings? 

13  Why  are  they  not  suscejjtiblo  of  definition? 

li  How  are  they  known  lo  exist  ? 

tS    3S0.  What  position  do  mora!  emotions  occupy  with  respect  to  act*  r/  Iht 

intellect  ? 
it  What  other  emotion?  occupy  the  same  place? 

tV  By  what  are  the  morfl  omotioiis  immodiatcly  followed? 

l8.  What  is  implied  in  jur  being  under  obligations  to  ,(o,  or  no*  v  d>^ 

any  particular  act ". 


S*i  QUF.STION5. 

19.  391.  In  wlial  oiscs  are  tlie  moral  emotions  liable  to  uhongOf 

SO.  The  necessity  of  this  ? 

Sil    3fl2.  The  apiiroiiriate  ohjects  of  moral  approval,  etc.? 

22.  What  are  not  such  olijects  ? 

£3,  Witli  what  is  duty  commensurate  ? 

CHAPTER  II. 

I  3}3.  With  what  have  some  confounded  r.oMcience  7 

B  V»'^li3'  is  this  a  natural  mistake? 

3  ?91    Vrhat  is  reasoning  ? 

i  The  distinction  between  the  reasoning  power  and  the  moral  cftlare  \ 

i  The  basis  of  moral  action  '/ 

3  391.  Illustrate  this  truth. 

T  393    Is  co::science  susceptible  of  being  educated? 

6  Mention  one  form  of  moral  education. 

V  'iOl .  Can  a  person  who  has  acted  conscientiously  be  considered  guilty  la 

so  acting  ? 
10,  In  what  does  such  guilt  consist  ? 

'1  The  consequences  of  denying  tliis  doctrine? 

1-2  Ptepeat  the  doctrine  on  this  subject. 

CHAPTER  III. 

1.  398.  Into  what  two  classes  of  feeling  does  conscience  resolve  itielf? 

2-  399.  How  do  we  ascertain  the  existence  of  feelings  of  moral  obligation  t 
3  Illustrate. 

'4.  400.  In  what  other  way,  also,  do  we  ascertain  their  existence? 

5.  Illustrate. 

6.  401.  In  what  other  way  still  is  it  shown  ? 

7.  Mention  some  of  the  terras  that  prove  their  existence. 

8.  402.  What  would  be  the  state  of  society  without  this  part  of  onrccnstl 

tiition  ? 

9.  403.  The  first  characteristic  mark  of  these  feelings  ? 

10.  40.1.  The  second  mark,  etc.?  and  illustrate. 

1 1.  405.  The  third  mark,  etc.  ? 

12.  What  is  meant  by  th*?  terms  enforcement,  constraint,  compulsioa 

as  applied  to  this  (eeling? 

13.  The  apostle's  meaningin  the  passage,  "The  love  of  Christ  constrain 

etli  me  ?" 

14.  400.  The  first  reason  assigned  for  not  classing  feelings  of  obligation  with 

emotions  ? 

15.  Illustrate. 

16.  407.  The  second  reason  ? 

17.  What  is  said,  in  this  connection,  of  moral  emotions? 
13.  408.  A  third  reason  ?   and  illustrate. 

13.  What  language  shows  the  prevalence  of  the  common  belief  on  tfcii 

subj.-;ct  ? 
SO    409    The  first  reason  why  feelings  of  moral  obligation  a»e  not  clsseod 

with  desires  ? 
i>\  The  second  reason,  etc.? 

ea    ilt    The  third  reason? 

a  How  do  the  mere  moral  emotions  operate  on  the  will? 

S4  Why  have  brute  animals  no  mora!  character! 

y  W>;y  are  they  not  accountable  ? 


aUKSTFONS.  33 

CHAPTER  IV. 

1    411    Wliattwokindsofunifonnity  are  therein  the  decisions  of  our  moral 

nature  ? 
i  The  law  on  which  unifoiinity  in  principle  is  founded  ? 

3  Are  the  dictates  of  unperverted  conscience  the  same  every  where  1 

4,  412,  What  objections  have  been  urged  against  the  doctrine  of  a  connat 

ural  conscience  ? 

5.  What  must  be  shown  in  order  to  meet  this  objection  ? 
t.  The  first  remark  on  this  subject  ? 

7  To  what  is  conscience  compared  ?  and  point  out  the  resemblance. 

!    *i3.  The  first  reason  assigned  for  the  diversities  of  the  decisions  of  con- 
science ? 
S  Illustrate  this  trath. 

IC.  414.  The  second  reason?  and  illustrato. 

11.  How  is  the  thievishness  of  the  Sandwich  Islanders  accounted  for  i 

12.  Show  that  this  is  the  true  explanation. 

13.  415.  The  third  reason?  and  illustrate. 

14.  What  is  said  of  the  Rev.  John  Newton? 

1.5.  416.  How  is  persecution  for  religious  opinions  accounted  for? 

16.  417.  The  fourth  reason,  etc.?  and  illustrate. 

17.  416.  The  last  reason  for  these  diversities?  and  illustrate. 

CHAPTER  V. 

1.  419.  What  is  said  of  the  importance  of  moral  education? 

2.  Why  has  it  been  so  much  neglected  ? 

3.  420.  What  suggestion  has  been  made  on  this  subject? 

4.  Why  is  it  entitled  to  no  weight?  _         r    •      <> 

5.  What  is  necessary  in  order  to  prevent  the  contamination  of  vice  ? 

6.  421.  What  facts  show  the  early  development  of  the  intellect  ? 

7.  How  early  docs  the  moral  nature  begin  to  develop  ? 

8.  At  what  age  is  the  moral  character  sometimes  formed? 

9.  422.  What  discouragement  often  attends  our  etibrts  to  improve  the  mo»i!l 

character  of  the  young  ? 
JO.  \Vhy  should  we  not  be  discouraged  ? 

11.  ^Vhat  incident  is  mentioned  ill-ustrative  of  this  subject? 

12.  423    Why  should  we  take  pains  to  introduce  into  the  mind  correct  spec- 

ulative opinions  ? 

13.  Illustrate  the  great  importance  of  such  opinions. 

14  What  is  said  of  the  doctrhie  that  "  Sincerity  is  every  iuSng  T" 

15  424    What  is  essential  to  sound  moral  education? 

16  The  oflnce  of  conscience  ? 

|7  How  does  conscience  regard  a  want  of  love  to  the  diviu^  <Aa?ECt€l  1 

10  The  fouudation  of  a  moral  lif  j  ? 


PART    III. 


CHAPTER  I. 


I    415   The  subject  of  this  chapter  ? 

1   436    What  is  insanity  ? 

S,  May  the  mind  be  disordered  without  being  in«aae  T 

4.  427.  The  consequence  of  disordered  ippetites  '. 

i.  Mention  instances  of  such. 


Hi  <iUE3TlON'S 

O-j.  Sea 

6.  Oive  an  illish-atiou  of  the  power  of  appetite. 

7.  428.  How  docs  tiie  principle  of  self  preservatiou  «how  iticJ  to  b«  dlKM 

dereil  ?  and  illustrate. 
S.  429.  How  the  possessory  principle  ?  and  illustrate. 
J.  430.  Examples  of  constitutional  thieves  ? 
10.  431.  Examples  of  constitutional  mimics  ? 

1 1  432,  What  is  implied  in  the  term  alienation  ? 

12  What  two  kinds  of  alienation  are  mentioned? 

13  Iii  what  two  ways  may  an  irregular  actioD  of  the  social  princlpta 

show  itself? 

1  113    What  is  said  of  Foscari? 

;.  What  is  nostalgia  ? 

$  What  is  said  of  the  Swiss  ?  and  of  the  Russian  army  in  AD.  17W 1 

:.1  How  remedied? 

i£  434.  The  effect  of  the  desire  of  esteem  on  tlie  character? 

19  The  effect  when  disordered? 

20  The  ruling  passion  of  Alcibiades  ? 

2t.  The  effect  of  the  inordinate  exercise  of  this  propensity? 

2-J.  435    The  effect  of  the  disordered  action  of  the  desire  of  power  f 
23.  Mention  the  case  recorded  by  Pinel. 

CHAPTER  II. 

1    4.^6.  What  is  sympathetic  irhitation  ? 

i.  437.  The  remark  of  Stewart  ? 

.?.  What  facts  illustrate  its  truth? 

4.  438.  Relate  the  occurrences  at  Haerlem. 

5.  439.  Relate  those  at  Chelmsford,  Mass. 

CHAPTER  III. 

1.  440.  What  do  you  mean  by  presentiments  ? 

2.  The  case  of  Isaac  Ambrose  ? 
3            The  case  of  Mozart? 

4.  The  case  of  Pendergrast? 

5.  The  case  of  Henry  1 V.  of  France  ? 

fi.  How  may  some  cases  be  explained? 

7.  Can  all  such  be  ? 

8.  441.  What  other  disordered  condition  of  mind  is  mentioned?  sad  SSa» 

trate. 

9.  The  cases  rnentioned  by  Dr.  Gale  ? 

10.  Mention  other  cases. 

11.  442.  What  is  said  of  the  insanity  of  the  passions? 

12.  443.  What  is  h3-pochondriasis  ? 

13.  To  what  may  it  sometimes  be  traced  ? 

14.  Mention  several  cases  of  it. 

15.  Thatof  the  Englishman  ? 

16.  411.  How  is  this  disease  characterized  ? 
17  The  first  step  toward  remedying  it  ? 
19  The  second  step? 

1».  The  third  step  ? 

K.  Remark  of  Dr.  Johnson  ? 

?l.  4i5.  How  does  the  disordered  act:Di-.  of  the  passion  *f  feM  ohcw  JSSsifl 

25.  The  distinctive  trait  of  despair  ? 

J3,  t4C,  What  strange  fact  is  here  mentioned  f 

'll  Fact  mentioned  by  Dr.  Rush? 

i5  Second  fact  ? 

25.  Fact  mentioned  by  Dr.  Gall  ? 

VI  Ina'^auces  of  death  frcm  icf? 


QUJCSTIOXS.  85 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Qa.  Sect.  <. 

1.  447.  The  two  isading  forms  of  moral  derangement? 

2.  Kemark  of  Juvenal  ?  and  explain  it. 

3.  Kcpeat  the  poetry  on  this  subject. 

4.  Can  conscience  die  ? 

6.  448.  .Maj'  an  individual  sin  in  obej'ing  conscience? 

6.  In  wliat  would  such  a  sin  consist.'  illustrate. 

7.  449.  Can  a  man  be  born  without  a  conscience  ? 

8.  Case  mentioned  by  Dr.  Haslam  ? 

9.  450.  Are  such  persons  accountable  .' 

10,  Are  men,  as  subjects  of  moral  government,  to  be  treated  alike  ? 


DIVISION    IIL 

CHAPTER  I. 

1.  451.  How  has  tlie  mind  been  divided? 

2.  What  is  the  Intellect  ? 

3.  "Wliat  the  Sensibilities  ? 

4.  What  the  Will  ? 

6.  452.  What  caution  is  here  given? 

6.  How  niay  the  Will  be\lefined  ? 

7.  What  remark  of  Mr.  Stewart  is  quoted  ? 

8.  453.  Wh}'  can  we  not  define  the  word  Volitions? 

0.  How,  then,  can  we  ascertain  what  thej'  are  ? 

10.  Why  have  we  a  right  to  assume  that  "no  one  is  ignorant  of  what 

is  meant  b}-  an  act  of  the  Will  ? 

11.  454.  The  first  thing  pointed  out  in  illustration  of  Volitions  ? 

12.  Repeat  Dr.  Reid's  remark. 

13.  455.  The  second  circumstance  mentioned? 
11.  Illustrate  this  remark. 

15.  What  usage  of  language  throws  light  on  the  distinction  hera 

mentioned? 

16.  45G.  What  further  inquiry  still  is  made  ? 

17.  To  what  do  our  volitions  relate,  in  the  first  place? 

18.  Illustrate  this  remark. 

10.  To  what,  in  tlie  second  place? 

20.  Illustrate  this  remark. 

21.  457.  Tlie  third  mark  or  characteristic  of  Volitions  ? 

22.  How  are  they  distinguished  from  intellective  or  perceptive  acts? 

23.  458.  The  fourth  characteristic  of  Volitions  ? 

24.  What  objection  is  liable  to  be  made  to  this  statement? 

25.  How  is  this  objection  shown  to  be  untenable? 

CHAPTER  II. 

1.  459.  Is  the  'Willfree,  or  in  bondage  ? 

2.  Does  it  act  in  connection  with  law,  or  without  law? 

3.  The  first  argument  from  analogy  that  it  acts  in  connection  witn 

law  ? 

4.  Show  that  thejuct  on  which  this  presumption  is  founded  is  un« 

doubted. 

5.  Is  this  truth  confined  to  inanimate  things? 

6.  Quote  the  remark  of  Montesquieu. 


36  QUESTIONS. 

Qu.    Sect. 

7.  4U0.  Quote  the  remark  of  Hooker. 

8.  How  is  this  a  most  con.solator}'  thought? 

y.  (What  did  our  blessed  Redeemer  say  on  this  point?     See  Matt., 

X.,  29-31.) 
?0.  4C1.  The  inference  from  this  truth  in  relation  to  the  Will  ? 

CHAPTER  HI. 

1.  •tC2.  The  second  argument  offered  iu  proof  of  the  position  that  the  Will 

has  its  laws  ? 

2.  Is  the  divine  foreknowledge  universally  admitted  ? 
3    4fi3.  Prove  it  from  tlie  Scriptures. 

4.  ^G-i.  On  what  are  the  actions  of  men  dependent? 

5.  The  inference  from  this  ? 
().  Illustrate. 

7.  The  remark  of  Dr.  Dwight,  and  the  author's  observations  thereon  ? 

8.  tG5.  The  inference  from  these  facts? 

9.  What  is  the  opposite  of  an  action  which  is  in  harmony  with  law? 
to.            Wliat  is  implied  in  the  idea  of  contingent  action  ? 

SI.  Can  anj'  thing  which  is  foreknown  as  certain  be  contingent? 

'i'2.  What  necessarj'  conclusion  then  follows  ? 

33,  iCG.  What  Scripture  doctrine  is  closely  connected  with  this  view  ? 

14.  Repeat  some  of  the  passages  here  quoted. 

15.  What  do  they  imply  ? 

CHAPTER  IV. 

L  iG7.  What  ohjection  to  this  argument  is  mentioned  ? 

2.  How  is  it  answered  ? 

3.  What  other  view  of  the  subject  is  presented  ? 

4.  tGS.  What  are  some  of  the  things  man  can  foretell,  with  reference  to 

himself? 
f).  Give  an  illustration. 

6.  What  fact  does  this  teach  U3  with  reference  to  our  volitions  ? 
How  is  this  shown  ? 

7.  409.  What  can  man  foretell  with  reference  to  others? 

8.  ■    What  remark  has  this  fact  elicited  ? 

9.  Give  an  illustration. 

10.  Quote  the  remark  of  Hume. 

11.  Repeat  the  remarks  of  Pale}'  with  reference  to  this  subject. 

12.  What  otlier  instances  are  mentioned  ? 

13.  The  argument  derived  from  these  facts? 

11.  471.  Wliat  other  facts  of  a  somewhat  peculiar  nature  are  here  men« 

tioned  ? 
1.5.  What  do  they  show? 

10.  472.  What  other  view  of  this  subject  is  presented? 

17.  Wiiat  is  said  of  Mirabeau  ? 

18.  473.  What  other  fact  still  is  mentioned? 

19.  Repeat  Bacon's  remark. 
29.           Mention  several  other  facts. 

CHAPTER  V. 

1.  474.  The  subject  of  this  chapter? 

2.  Under  what  circumstances  might  it  be  'jsii  that  the  Will  waj 

subject  to  mere  accident  ? 

3.  W^hat  then  would  be  the  result  ? 

4.  475.  What  would  follow  from  perfect  harmon}-  in  other  parts  of  the 

mind? 

5.  Wliat  illustration  is  here  given  ? 

C.  What  is  remarked  of  the  holv  angels? 


QUKSTIOXS.  37 

dm.    SMt. 

7.  The  inference  from  these  facts  ? 

S.  47C.  The  lirst  argument  in  proof  of  the  freedom  of  tlic  Will  ? 

',).  Explain  what  is  meant  by  this. 

10.  What  is  said  of  this  argument? 

1 1 .  'I'lie  remark  of  Mr.  Stewart  ? 

12.  477.  Are  all  persons  conscious  of  freedom  ? 
i;!.  What  is  said  of  tlio  ajiparcnt  exceptions  ? 

14.  Can  an}'  man  enslave  himself? 

15.  Illustrate. 

i(i.  What  is  remarked  of  such  cases  ? 

CHAPTER  VI. 

1.  478.  The  second  argument  in  proof  of  the  freedom  of  the  Will  ? 

2.  How  is  it  shown  tliat  man  has  a  moral  nature? 

3.  In  what  are  the  elements  of  his  moral  nature  to  he  found  ? 

4.  What  fact  is  implied  in  man's  possessing  sucli  a  nature  ? 

5.  479    State  the  argument  from  the  moral  feelings  of  approval  and  dib- 

approval. 
6    480.  The  argument  from  the  feelings  of  remorse? 

7.  481.  The  argument  from  the  alistriict  notions  of  ri^ht  and  wrong? 

8.  What  remark  is  made  of  these  conceptions  of  right  and  wrong  ? 

9.  482.  What  is  said  of  our  feelings  of  moral  obligation  ? 

10.  Why  can  they  not  be  defined  ? 

11.  How  do  thev'prove  that  the  Will  is  free  ? 

12.  483.  The  argimient  from  men's  views  of  crimes  and  punisliments? 

13.  The  remark  of  Dr.  Reid  ? 

14.  484.  The  prevalent  opinion  of  mankind  on  this  subject? 

15.  Tlic  argument  derived  from  tins  opinion  ? 

10.  485.  What  two  distinct  doctrines  have  now  been  staled  on  this  subject  ? 

17.  Wliat  is  said  of  the  first,  the  Will's  subjection  to  law  ? 

18.  4SG.  Wliat  of  the  second,  the  Will's  freedom'? 

ly.  Can  any  plea  of  inability  ever  be  admitted  as  an  excuse  for  neg- 

ligence or  siu  ? 

CHAPTER  VII. 

1.  487.  TIic  subject  of  this  chapter? 

2.  Of  what  is  jiower  jiredicablc  ? 

3.  Illustrate  what  you  mean  by  this. 

4.  488.  The  lirst  proof  of  the  fact  that  power  is  predicablc  of  the  Will  ? 

5.  Illustrate. 

(].  What  then  arc  we  taught  by  consciousness  ? 

7.  489.  The  second  argument  in  proof  of  (his  fact? 

8.  Wliat  control  have  we  over  our  trains  of  ihoughl? 
0.            Wliat  explanation  can  be  given  of  this  fact? 

10.  490.  Tlie  third  proof  of  power  in  the  Will? 

11.  Illustrate. 

12.  What  remark  is  made  of  Howard  ? 
l.'>.  What  does  Ledyard  say  of  himself  ? 

1  L  491.  In  wdiat  other  way  is  this  subject  illustrated? 

15.  What  saying  of  Socrates  is  quoted  ? 

1(>.  492.  Solomon's  declaration  on  self-control  ? 

17.  The  argument  deduced  from  this  power? 

18.  493.  What  other  proof  of  power  of  Will  is  given  ? 

19.  What  remark  is  made  by  the  author  of  Lacoir? 

20.  On  what  supposition  onh'  can  we  exidain  this  fixedness  of  pur.. 

pose? 

21.  494.  AVhat  ilhistralion  is  given  in  this  seclion  ? 

22.  495.  What  illustration  is  fuiniished  by  the  cfmduct  of  savages  ? 
.?->.  How  alone  tan  such  facta  be  e.xjdained? 


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